


White Noise

by sparrow_and_tea



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Angst, Anxiety, Assault, Biting, Companions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual relationship, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Kissing, Memory Loss, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence, Plot, Slow Build, Some Humor, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-07 16:20:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 31,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8807656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrow_and_tea/pseuds/sparrow_and_tea
Summary: *Based on and inspired by the Bad Prologue ending in Mystic Messenger. Fictional Saeran route. Spoilers ahead.It starts with a simple message and ends with your abduction and initiation into a strange, cult-like group who refers to themselves as Mint Eye. Your initial goal is to survive, gain trust, and eventually escape, though it becomes more difficult by the day to remember your past. You develop a fear of the veiled followers - the ones who serve to "purify" and "correct" you for paradise - and are disturbed to realize the only comforting presence inside Mint Eye is your abductor: Saeran. Can you escape and find your way back to reality? Will he come with you?(Writer's Notes: Written in second person / sometimes Saeran's POV. Features some headcanons regarding Mint Eye, the followers, and daily routines.)





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm new to fanfic, but I had an itch that needed to be scratched (a Saeran / MC route or relationship), which inspired this impending story dump. Hope you enjoy!

* 1 *

Honestly, what were you even doing here?

You are standing in the hallway of an unfamiliar apartment complex across town and staring at the entrance of a stranger's suite. Engraved on the metal door handle are the letters R.F.A, and above it is an electronic keypad. You didn't have the password. 

This isn't right, is it? They never said anything about a code. 

You step back and glance down the hall nervously. Only one other person is there, slouched against the far wall and texting, partially hidden from view by a decorative potted plant. He pays no mind to your awkward loitering. Maybe he's locked out of his apartment and getting a hold of a roommate to let him in. It didn't matter. You look back at the keypad. 

As if on cue, your phone vibrates. You open up the messenger.

 

**Unknown:** Are you there? ^^ See. Nothing strange. 

 

You scoff. Yeah, of course - nothing weird about a stranger leading you to a random apartment across town in hopes of returning a lost phone... Suddenly, summarizing it like that makes you feel really stupid for even agreeing to do this. You're a young woman who should know better than to listen to strangers, especially ones who request you to go to unknown places—alone! Your face grows hot from embarrassment. 

You look back down at your phone and see another message.

 

**Unknown:** Is there a password lock on the door? 

 

Yes, but did you really want to tell them you see it? As far as you know, no one is here to contradict you. The only other person in the hallway hasn't so much as glanced up from their phone since you've stepped off the elevator. 

 

**You answer:** Hmm. Don't see one. 

 

Maybe they will leave you alone if you lie. You already imagine returning to your apartment, climbing back into bed, and sleeping off the rest of the day as if to erase what you'd done out of poor judgment.

 

**Unknown:** That's strange. There's really nothing? There's nothing to put in the password? 

**You answer:** There's nothing. 

**Unknown:** … You sure? 

**You answer:** It's not here. 

**Unknown:** Really? That's weird. I see with my own eyes that...you are standing in front of a password door lock. Are you gonna continue lying? 

 

Your breath catches in your throat. No, they're just trying to mess with you... Haha, very funny. But your heart beats faster and your nerves quiver, ready to set you sprinting down the hallway at the slightest noise. 

 

**You answer:** What?? You can see me? 

**Unknown:** Haha... Yes. I guess that's it then. Plan failed. 

 

Enough of this! In one jittery motion, you pocket your phone and turn on your heel to leave, but your pathway to the elevators is now blocked by a lean figure in a black leather jacket, bright eyes catching yours and holding you in place. It was the man waiting just down the hall! You didn't hear him get up or even approach – you must have been too distracted by the alarming messages to notice. Idiot. You were a complete, irresponsible fool. 

“The plan failed,” he says in a distorted voice. “I have to find someone else.” 

“Who the hell are you?” Your feet feel rooted to the ground. Come on. Move! 

“You don't need to know, but... what should I do with you? I'd like to let you go, but you already know me.” There's amusement in his eyes, and you imagine he's smiling behind the black mask he's wearing over his nose, mouth and neck. 

An icy finger of fear traces up your spine and causes you to flee on instinct. You barely make it to the elevators before he's on you. Strong hands grab your wrists and forcefully pull you back onto his chest while clamping a hand over your mouth. A scream catches in your throat as you feel his cold fingers bind your lips shut. You try to punch, scratch, bite, and kick, but every blow lands with little impact. 

“Sorry, but you'll have to come with me,” he whispers in your ear as you struggle against him.

No, no, no, your mind screams. An exit. Where? The stairs. Over there!

Your heart is beating wildly. You keep fighting in hopes of creating an unbalance that would topple you both to the floor. The moment never comes, but it distracts him enough to loosen his grip on your mouth. You seize the opportunity and bite down hard.

He cusses loudly as you push away and spring towards the stairwell doors. 

So close!

All the air leaves your lungs in one sharp gasp as he drops you to the floor. He turns you over as you suck in ragged breaths. The taste of copper pennies fills your mouth as he straddles your body, pinning your arms with his knees and putting his weight against your stomach. 

“I could just get rid of you,” he spat, clearly annoyed by the inconvenience you're causing him, “but that'd be a shame. You're so cute.” 

Something warm trails down your face to your neck. Your nose must be bleeding. It's hard to stay focused when everything suddenly becomes hazy. 

“You can be my assistant,” he continues, but looks to the side as if distracted. “Right... He said he has an assistant. I'd like one too. Should I use... you?” 

Making his decision, he pulls a syringe from his pocket and uncaps it. Eyes wide with panic, you try once more to free yourself but to no avail. 

“I'll be good to you,” he coos while injecting the pale liquid into your veins. You whimper weakly at the sudden pain. It's like fire. Tears sear your eyes. “Come with me.” 

No, you answer, but you never make a sound. It's in your head.

The drug courses through your veins, carried along quickly by your panic-stricken heart. The fire gives way to a comforting warmth, relaxing your muscles and smothering your thoughts in a soft black blanket. You can still see, but colors blaze vibrantly while lights are tinged with a prism-like aura.

He is still over you, but his grip softens now. His silvery hair shimmers with a pinkish halo. Those bright eyes are an electric green under the drug's influence. White noise spills from his mouth. 

“This is exciting. I'll be nice. I'm a much better person than him...” he promises.


	2. Drive

*2* 

Regaining consciousness is like rising up from the depths of a deep black lake. Everything is murky – your thoughts, the sounds, your vision – and it takes some time for your senses to re-calibrate. How much time? You don't know. Hell, you don't even know where you are...

At first you hear a low hum. Then voices. Maybe some soft music cutting its way through the darkness. You smell a smokey cologne. Cigarettes. The wind brushing across your face and tangling in your hair. 

Your head lolls to one side. Your eyes open to see him sitting in the driver seat flicking his cigarette out the window and into the night. His last puff fills the car.

This asshole again. 

“So you woke up already... I thought for sure you'd stay sleeping until we arrived,” he says quietly. “I guess it doesn't matter. We're almost there.” 

“Wha-” You try to talk, but it's like someone shoved gravel down your throat. Blood is hammering at your temples. This is like one of those hangovers you had at college a few weeks ago, only that particular night didn't end with you being abducted. 

“I know you have a lot of questions, but just wait until I get you to our Savior. If she accepts you, she will give you whatever you need, and you'll receive your invitation to Paradise. After that, I can use you as my assistant." 

“Savior,” you say blearily. You were kidnapped by a damn cult. Is that it? You can't believe it.

God, your head feels like it's going to explode. You go to touch your temples but immediately realize your hands are bound. Feet too. You're also wearing your seat belt. In a moment of delirious humor, you can't help but give a dry laugh. Glad he's so concerned for your safety! Or maybe it was for his. 

“Just don't do anything stupid.” 

Too late, your mind chastises.

You stay silent. You should be in the grips of panic, even anger right now, but your reactions are still being subdued by whatever venom he injected into you. Instead, you just feel empty. Dead, but still breathing. It's a heavy weight. 

You drop your head against the window glass and watch the darkness skid by.


	3. The Savior

* 3 *

“Saeran, you failed your mission. Why did you bring her here?”

You stand next to your captor, your hands still bound and your head swimming. It's difficult to focus, but the three of you are in a lavish room decorated with tapestries fringed with tassels, gold pillars stretching towards the high cathedral-like ceiling, and a plush carpet runner leading up to a platform dedicated to a lone throne. This is where the Savior sits, waiting for an answer. 

“She refused to enter the apartment and already knows too much. I did what I had to do. I'd like her to be my assistant.” He grabs your arm and jerks you forward as if showing off a prize. 

The Savior doesn't seem pleased. She stands from her ornate chair, long white robes flowing behind as she makes her way down the steps to inspect you more closely. You hold your breath. This could be it. This woman could demand to snuff out your life in an instant.

“If you 'did what you had to do,' you would have gotten rid of her,” she says sharply, but then turns to you. “Saeran hurt your pretty face to get you here. I'm so sorry about that. It must have been traumatic for you. I can see why he grew soft and spared your life.” She brushes a strand of your hair back from your cheek and clicks her tongue. Her eyes are like dark emeralds. “But I suppose that's what you get for refusing to play. Let me ask you something: Do you like parties?” 

Confused, you nod your head slowly, unsure if its the answer she wants.

“Good, good,” she says, circling you like a wolf who stumbled upon a wounded rabbit. Saeran watches closely and fidgets with the spiked leather cuff on his wrist. “Saeran wishes you to become his assistant, but because you came from that filthy world, you will need to be cleansed first. All your pain and suffering from your previous life will fade away, and you'll be left with only a world filled with pleasures and truth, no tears or rejection. You will be accepted by us here at Mint Eye. You are invited to Paradise... Will you accept my invitation?” 

It really is a damn cult! 

You pause before answering. The most important thing right now is survival, your murky mind concludes. Survive long enough and you can escape. But a flickering hope begs you to ask, “What if I refuse the invitation?” 

A shadow crosses the beautiful woman's face, but vanishes quickly. “Then neither Saeran or I have any use for you.” 

The answer comes as no surprise. You've seen enough movies to know its either comply or die once you've infiltrated a secret organization. 

“I accept your invitation...” It isn't like you had any other choice, really. 

The Savior beams. Her smile is as radiant and warm as sunlight – a total change from just moments before. “Good. You will be cleansed of all unnecessary knowledge acquired in the contaminated world and should you endure, you will pledge to participate in the party of paradise that only pursues everlasting happiness and joy. Welcome to Mint Eye.” She turns to Saeran. “Make her comfortable.”


	4. The Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note regarding Mint Eye: There isn't a lot of concrete information concerning how this secrete organization actually runs, let alone how the interior of the mansion appears (there's only a few backdrops during game play, but that's about it.) So while I maintain some headcanons for the sake of the story, I also keep visual descriptions rather vague for the reader who may interpret the appearance of Mint Eye differently. 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and views so far, everyone! <3

 

*** 4 ***

“I'm seriously going to live here, aren't I.” You can't believe it. Can't freaking believe that you, of all people, were kidnapped by a cult and now had to figure out a way to escape back to reality. Was this a bad joke? A prank? A nightmare gone on too long? You pinch the skin on your hand just to make sure.

“What are you fussing about?” Saeran rummages through a dresser drawer, his leather jacket slouching off his right shoulder. You notice it uncovers an unnerving eye tattoo inked in black. Another eye motif. There are plenty of them around this place called Mint Eye, and it gives you the never ending sensation of being watched.

“This is because of you, you asshole. You could have just let me go. All I wanted to do was go back to my apartment and sleep the rest of the day,” you fume.

“You can sleep now,” he says while pulling out a towel.

Both of you are standing in a modest bedroom inside the mansion. Honestly... there could be worse accommodations as far as religious cults go (this is your assumption anyway.) There is a cot, dresser, end table with a lamp, and a small bathroom attached to the suite. You note there are no clocks. There's also a window, but you're aware of the two story drop on the other side. Regardless, the glass is covered with a metal screen which looks difficult to remove without power tools.

With the drug wearing off after your meeting with the Savior, the situation hits with a crisp clarity and sends you into a tangle of emotions – anxiety, confusion, helplessness, but mostly anger. You're pissed off. How dare he rearrange your life like this by dragging you here. All you have are the clothes on your back and that didn't count for much considering your shirt is stained with blood. You didn't have clean clothes, underwear, another bra, a tooth brush, soap – hell, you didn't even have tampons. Your phone is missing too, though you assume Saeran destroyed it shortly after taking you. No computer. You pat your jean pockets – no wallet, so no money or ID. What are you going to eat? Is there a kitchen, a laundry room? Does Saeran or the great Savior go to the store to get detergent? Is Saeran going to be responsible for getting you tampons? Your head is spinning like a top as these thoughts bombard you, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Suddenly, you're painfully aware he is staring at you from the dresser, towel in hand.

“What?”

“You should really get that blood off.”

“Oh, okay, let me just do that with my hands tied. Are you going to take these off or not?”

His eyes dart from the bindings, to your face, and back to your hands. He's hesitant.

“Well?”

Saeran drops the towel on the cot and yanks at your wrists – you wince because the skin has grown tender there – and undoes the bindings. It is a short, sweet relief. He flinches away as if expecting you to attack once you're free. God, you really want to. You want to smack that perfect face of his for uprooting your life, but you just didn't have the energy. Your body ached from the previous scuffle at the apartment complex. The marks he left already bloomed and darkened across your arms.

“I don't intend to hurt you,” Saeran says, breaking the silence. He's still watching you closely.

You scoff. “Yeah. Alright. Tell that to my bloody nose and bruises.”

“I couldn't let you leave,” he replies casually. “You knew too much. The alternative of becoming my assistant is much better.”

“What, because I'm cute, right? Isn't that what you said? Just get out.”

Saeran walks towards the door but stops and turns to you. Your nerves flare. For a second you believe he's going to reconsider, stay, attack...

He raises a pale hand to your face and runs the back of his fingers across your cheek gingerly. It could be considered a loving gesture if the context didn't feel so wrong. You flinch at his touch. “I meant what I said. Don't worry - you're here with us now. We'll care for you. Never abandon you. We welcome you into our eternal Paradise.” With that, he disappears from the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall beyond.

Saeran's words summon goosebumps across your flesh. This is crazy. _He's_ crazy.

You run up to the door and try the handle. Locked. Frustrated, you kick the wall. This is your jail cell.

You walk over to the cot and snatch the towel he left behind. There's nothing to do but clean yourself up and try to sleep.

It's probably midnight when you finally get a hot shower and scrub the crusted blood from your face, neck and chest. To your surprise, the bathroom comes furnished with toiletries such as soap, shampoo, a toothbrush, toothpaste, toilet paper, and wash cloths. It feels like staying in a motel room. The only difference is you can't leave.

You grab the soap and work it into a lather to remove the last stubborn stains of blood. It smells of sweet spearmint. Of course. Why wouldn't the scent of the soap compliment the name of the organization? Mint Eye. Mint soap. Even Saeran's eyes are the color of mint leaves. Before you know it, you're laughing hysterically – and crying. Your throat cracks and your body heaves as your laughter degrades into sobs, each one growing louder until your knees give and you're reduced to huddling on the tile floor, crying under the constant stream of scalding water from the shower head.

After your private pity party, you come out of the bathroom to find a pair of black sweat pants and a maroon tank top folded neatly on the bed. They look like the jerk's clothes, actually. It's unnerving coming to realize Saeran delivered them while you were naked and vulnerable just moments before in the other room. The thought makes your skin crawl. Toweling off, you dress, turn off the light, and climb into bed. The only thing to fall asleep to is your inner monologue scolding you for being too trusting.


	5. Purification

*** 5 ***

 

The cleansing process takes place in the morning in the basement (you saw pale sunlight from your bedroom window before being escorted,) and is overseen by two disciples of the Savior. Black iron bars map out a series of cells along drab concrete walls. Dipped candles burn from drooping sconces. It's eerie, to say the least. You're thankful you didn't have to spend the night down here sleeping on the cold stone floors.

Right away the disciples inform you of the fast. “Three days,” the veiled woman says. “But you may have all the water you wish in order to cleanse your physical body of all the toxins from that filthy world you came from.”

No food? Whatever. Fine. What else?

“To cleanse you of your past is another matter.” The male disciple, also veiled, pulls out a small bottle and a syringe. Seeing the needle, you immediately jump off your wooden stool with enough vigor that it topples to the stone floor. The woman leaps to her feet, ready to grab you if necessary in case you attack. Its in this moment you see her holding as strip of leather in her right hand.

“You can choose your dose,” he continues as if unfazed by your reaction. “The pill, or the needle. These are your only options. If you do not choose willingly, we will do it for you.”

“What do they do?” You eye the leather at the woman's side.

“They make it easier to let go of all the pain and hardships of your past, purifying your mind to prepare you for Paradise.”

That didn't exactly answer your question, but you assume it's a similar dosage to what Saeran used yesterday at the apartment complex. What will they do if you black out? What is going to happen to you? Anxiety twists through your insides, causing you to involuntarily shake.

“Please choose,” the man persists.

Your goal is survival, you remind yourself. Survive, gain trust, and escape. That's the plan, you think reassuringly as you select the small white pill. Maybe you can just pocket it in your cheek or under your tongue instead of swallowing it. Yeah, that could work. Then you can spit it out while they're not looking.

He provides you a glass of water.

Your shaking hands almost dump the glass, but you manage to take a sip and pretend to swallow the pill. However, you see the hitch in your plan too late when the disciple holding the strip of leather comes over to you, grabs your mouth and forces a look inside. She sees the pill stuck to the inside of your cheek and in one swift motion, as if she's done it hundreds of times before, she belts you across your thigh. CRACK! You scream and immediately buckle to the floor. CRACK! CRACK! She smacks you across your back and you wonder if your spine shatters. Tears well in your eyes while you anticipate another blow, but nothing comes.

“Get up,” she demands.

You're legs wobble but you stand, eyes hard and staring directly into their faceless veils. The tank top Saeran left for you offered no protection from her wrath. Your skin throbs and tingles with a fiery, stinging pain.

“Again.” The woman holds out the glass of water.

This time you actually swallow the pill.

After taking a moment to inspect you once more – you willingly open your mouth and lift your tongue - the woman returns to her seat after feeling satisfied with your obedience. She grabs a small journal and pen from the table between her and her partner, thumbs to the first page and begins writing. You wonder if she documents all of the people who come here to be purified.

It takes about ten minutes for the effects to kick in. You can tell because the wall candles are flickering with a shimmery, rainbow-colored aura. A familiar and comforting warmth settles into your arms, back and legs, loosening your muscles and taking away the ache Saeran and the leather strip left behind. Your mind is pliable like putty under the influence of the disciples' words. They speak sweetly about Paradise, ridding the world of sadness, and inviting more members to the organization in time. You begin thinking how nice it would be to live in a place with no pain, where everyone you know can be trusted, and endless pleasures abound at an everlasting party. Their words drip like honey into your ears, and you can't help but smile.


	6. Meeting

*** 6 ***

 

It goes on like that for a while. A few weeks, maybe a month or two, you aren't sure anymore. There are no clocks or calendars, nor are you allowed any electronic devices. All the windows at Mint Eye are covered except the one in your room, but you soon realize your routine isn't dictated by the time of day. Sometimes you're trying to sleep in broad daylight or in the faded, pinkish glow of dusk. Many times you're forced awake in complete darkness; this has caused you to lash out at the culprit but you're always beaten back into submission with that damn leather. Your routine always changes, making it difficult to predict when they would come. It keeps you on edge and you develop a few nervous habits like biting your nails and picking at scabs.

The drugs they keep feeding you only disorients your mind and emotions, leaving you to go between relaxing euphoria or pain. The effect always wears off when you try to sleep, but sleep rarely comes because this is when you're aware of every bruise, ache, or cut on your body. When its time to get out of bed, you crave the small white pill because at least it erases the physical suffering for a while. The trade off is a foggy and distracted mind. It's difficult to formulate a plan when you're too drugged to rebel or locked in your room for hours, forced to feel what they leave behind.

You grow anxious of the female disciple who seems to know when you'll disobey before you even do. She follows you during food breaks, waits while you attend laundry, and hovers while you clean. If you mess up, move too slow, move too fast, or forget something, she hits you. Once, she hit you so hard it broke the skin, but it wasn't realized until you were back in your suite and climbing in the shower. The hot water on your back caused you to scream. It makes you look forward to when you're down in the basement, sitting on the stool and feeling the pill's effects while listening to the male disciple's monotone gospel, preaching about eternal happiness. It's a soothing and predictable part of the day.

There are moments when you reach a limbo state where the pill's effects wear off and the disciples have yet to supply you with another dose. In these rare occurrences, you try to remember your goal. It's like chasing down a dream - it's wispy, barely there, just gliding across your conscious mind like a lazy breeze, twisting and evading your reach. It's familiar but distant. Sometimes you catch hold, but it isn't long enough to plan a means of escape. They always come back with a capsule to drown out your thoughts.

You barely see Saeran. When you do, it's to provide him with a list of needs. More soap, shampoo, fresh clothes. The next evening when you return to your room, your gifts are on your bed. New clothes are neatly folded. There's a small bar of soap that doesn't reek of mint, but instead smells like lavender. When the soap isn't being used in the shower, it's on your nightstand so the aroma comforts you while you try desperately to fall asleep.

One morning there's a knock at your door. You didn't need to open your eyes. You've been awake for the past few hours.

“I'm up,” you say while pulling yourself from the blankets. You knew better than to refuse to get ready.

Mechanically, you go to your dresser, strip off the black sweat pants and maroon tank top, and pull on a pair of jeans, socks, and a fresh shirt. You're careful not to disturb your new and fading bruises, but can't help but wince every time you move a certain way. You tug your hair back into a messy ponytail and slip on your shoes before opening the door.

Mint eyes.

“Are you ready?” Saeran waits there in his leather jacket, the one side characteristically slung off his right shoulder to reveal his tattoo. His white-blond pink-tipped hair is still damp from his presumable shower but the smokey scent of cigarettes and cloves hangs idly in the air around him. A crimson muscle shirt clings to his body.

He's a welcoming sight, and part of you is disturbed by how happy you are to see him standing there instead of the female disciple. You're still sane enough to remember he's the reason why you're here, but ever since the initial kidnapping he hasn't laid a finger on you; never, not even out of anger or lust. His association with comfort items, such as the lavender soap, also helps forge a particular appreciation of his presence.

“Where are we going?”

“We're going to see the Savior. It's been reported to me that you've been a good girl and are doing well with your lessons,” he says.

You ignore his comment while stepping into the hall and shutting the door, slipping your key card into your back pocket. The door locks automatically.

“What does it mean... if I'm doing well? What will happen?” It feels strange going somewhere other than the basement. When you see the shrouded disciples moving about the mansion, you experience a fleeting moment of panic, believing this is a trick and the woman with the leather strip will suddenly appear and beat you until your skin is raw. But no one pays attention to you or Saeran as they go about their daily duties. Only the ever-present eye motifs are watching.

“If the Savior is satisfied with your progress, you'll be allowed to start working as my assistant,” he says. “I... would like that very much. I hope you are ready.”

You halfheartedly wonder how it will be working under Saeran. Will the lessons, the pills, and the beatings stop, or would he take over these tasks...? Your mind grows fuzzy again. Sometimes even without the pills it is difficult to think clearly for too long.

Before you know it, you're both standing in front of a heavy wooden door. Saeran raises a hand to knock, but the door pulls back startlingly fast to reveal a tall, lanky man with sunglasses and turquoise hair.

“That's right! Get out! Leave!” the Savior screams, and you see a glass – perhaps holding perfume – smash against the frame. The door shuts just in time before any shards escape into the hallway.

“I'm so sorry. Please excuse me,” he says before walking briskly down the hall.

“Who...”

“No one.” Saeran cuts you off. He looks disgusted.

The two of you wait in the hall for a few moments. As to why, it didn't need saying.

When Saeran feels the time is right, he raises his hand again and knocks three times. You can smell the remnants of the perfume leak under the door. It is overwhelmingly sweet, like sun ripened citrus fruits in the summer. Orange peel. Grapefruit. A hint of chamomile. Your stomach growls for something tart but sugary.

The Savior answers. She is perfectly composed and smiling, though you can hear the glass of the broken bottle crunch under her heels. “I've been expecting you. Please, come in, but watch your step. I'm sorry for the mess.”

She takes your hand and leads you to a chair while Saeran follows closely behind. The room is merely a sitting area, but lavishly decorated like the throne room you saw on the first day you arrived.

You sit down gingerly, trying your best not to show any pain. It doesn't take long before you are distracted by the drinking glasses on the coffee table in front of you. There are two, each filled with a summery orange juice. What remains by the door must be the third glass. You're stomach growls hungrily again. It's been a while since you've had anything with flavor.

Saeran chooses to stand some distance away from your chair and fidgets with the spiked leather cuff bound to his wrist.

“I had this treat made for us. Though I cannot join you, please help yourselves.” The Savior sits in the chair across from you and smooths over her robes.

You give pause. Is this a test of some sort? Will you be hit if you reach for the drink?

Then, Saeran takes a glass from the table. Believing this to be a good sign, you follow suit and grab the remaining drink. Your mouth is already watering when you take a sip. The tart taste of citrus bursts in your mouth. It's delicious. You must stop yourself before downing all the juice then and there. “T-Thank you so much.”

The Savior smiles, clearly pleased you accepted her gift and enjoy it.

“You are here to be evaluated, at Saeran's request,” she begins. “According to your instructors, you are quick to leave behind your previous contaminated life. This is good. More than good. It's expected if you wish to enter Paradise.”

You shift uneasily in your seat. Your focus is split between the drink and her words.

Another sip.

The young woman reaches into her robes and pulls out the disciple's journal, the one she nearly filled while documenting your lessons and progress. The Savior fans through the pages. “Tell me, how do you feel being here?”

“I feel...” you begin, but your remaining words are eaten by self doubt. You didn't know what to say. Should you be honest? The heavy haze inside your head keeps you from forming a coherent thought to help navigate this situation. “I feel light. Unburdened. I look forward to attending the everlasting party where there is nothing but happiness.” It wasn't necessarily a lie. You did in fact look forward to a time when you weren't smacked for every mistake, or drugged out of your head. You yearn for your body to be unblemished, for your showers to feel relaxing instead of excruciating, and for a time when you can sleep through the night without nightmares of masked figures.

“I'm glad,” says the beautiful woman. Her dark green eyes study you a moment, which makes you unconsciously bite at your fingernails. You only notice when you feel there is nothing left for your teeth to tear.

The Savior slams the record journal shut, startling you. “Since I am satisfied with the progress you've made, as documented by your instructor, we should schedule your initiation ceremony tomorrow evening. It is a small, private affair, headed by me and attended by the devote. After it is over, you will be allowed to cross into Paradise when the time comes for the everlasting party to begin.”

“When can she start working as my assistant?” Saeran asks. He's standing next to your chair, his drinking glass still full.

“She can assist you after she's initiated,” the Savior answers curtly. “Now, do you have any questions?”

You stare down at your empty glass for a moment (you don't remember drinking the rest of the juice.) “No. I look forward to tomorrow's ceremony.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to give my thanks to those who are subscribing to the story! I know these opening sections aren't very Saeran-focused due to providing a backdrop of Mint Eye and MC's experiences, but the upcoming sections will be, so I appreciate you guys sticking around to give this a chance! <3


	7. Initiation & Disappointment

 

*** 7 ***

 

Nearly a whole cycle of a day passes before two different disciples you've never spoken with – their voices are unfamiliar to you - arrive at your door. They instruct you to shower and dress, and provide you with a long, simple robe similar to theirs. Thankfully they allow privacy, but you guess they're standing right outside the suite.

You put on the robe and instantly hate it. It's itchy, heavy, and reminds you of your wounds every time you move.

You're taken to the throne room. Saeran is not present, but many veiled followers are there, fifteen to be exact, plus the Savior sitting on her ornamented chair. You wonder how many more people are associated with Mint Eye if this is considered a “private affair.” You're also wondering if the female disciple, the one who carries the leather strip, is among those here to bear witness to your initiation. The anonymity of the devote always plays tricks with your head. Without faces, they didn't seem real.

It's been roughly a day since anyone provided you with the small white pill, and the sharpness of reality slices through you as you listen to the disciples speak their piece. Your head is pounding, probably due to withdrawal, and anxiety vibrates through you like warm current, making it difficult to stay still. You can't help but pick at the hem of the long sleeves or chew your lip; now that your nails are bitten to the quick, you've moved onto peeling the skin from your lips with your teeth.

The entire initiation process doesn't take long. It's what you expect, really: some words, symbols drawn in the air, a dowsing of purified water, candles being lit and then extinguished. Only the blood letting took you by surprise.

The Savior embraces you tightly and whispers, “You are one of us now, my friend. We will do nothing but good things. Don't you worry.”

You swallow hard. Good things. Sure...

She lets go, trailing her hands down your arms and clasping yours politely, affectionately. “This may be sudden, but Saeran will take you to his office now so you can begin helping right away.”

You jump after realizing he's standing next to you. He's as quiet as a damn cat! Your frayed nerves can't handle anymore surprises.

“Come with me,” he says, and walks briskly down length of the room. You jog a few steps to catch up until you're right at his side.

He leads you along corridors until you reach a flight of carpeted stairs. Your mind plays cartographer in an attempts to add on to the already developing map of the mansion inside your blurry memories. There are many places you've yet to go since your destinations are always dictated by your escorts.

The two of you reach the top floor. It's a short hallway with only three rooms. All the doors are closed. He swipes his key card and opens the door on the right, letting you go inside first.

You're greeted by the humming of electricity and whirring of fans. The room itself is rather spacious but dim, only lit by the numerous screens which take up almost an entire wall. The screen saver is set to what you can only presume is the logo of the organization, all things considered. It is a giant, mint colored eye. There's also a black chair, desk, a keyboard, computer towers, filing cabinets, and a seating area. The room is quite warm from so much energy contained in a confined space. You see there are no windows. It's like a box. A coffin.

Come to think of it, you never bothered to ask what Saeran does for Mint Eye. Suddenly you're concerned about what you'll be assisting with and hope it isn't anything illegal or dangerous.

“Saeran, what is it that you do exactly?” You're standing near the door, unsure if it's alright to walk about the room and explore on your own. You still don't know how he will treat you now that you've left the hands of the disciples.

“It's none of your concern. You just need to do as I say,” he replies, and slips off his leather jacket. He discards his coat on a couch located across from the computer station and turns to you. You're still standing stiffly by the door in your stupid initiation robe.

“Can I change?” you try asking. If he isn't going to tell you his job, the least he could do is give you a change of clothes.

“You can wear that, it doesn't matter.”

Your head still hurts, and you're becoming itchier and annoyed because of the heat. Saeran is one of the few people who hasn't lashed out at you since your arrival at Mint Eye, which causes you to let some of your guards down and exude your frustrations. “Just get me some of your clothes. I don't care what they are. Let me change!” you demand.

He hesitates, but eventually walks past you to the exit. “Don't touch anything.”

The door clicks shut and locks. You don't bother trying the handle.

You find the courage to wander the room, not looking at anything in particular. There isn't much worth examining, to be honest. Everything is clean and organized. You assume all loose papers are tucked away in the filing cabinets and the computer screens are locked. Cupboards are shut tight. (You did actually try to open the cabinet door to see what was inside, but it was jammed.) The coffee table in front of the couch looks to have been wiped down before your arrival. Only the leather jacket is strewn across the plush black sofa, forgotten.

With nothing to occupy yourself with while Saeran finds you clothes, you take a seat on the couch and turn on the table lamp situated next to the armrest. It's quiet except for the electrical hum of his computers.

You hear the automatic click of the door lock and Saeran reenters holding another pair of black sweatpants and a white tank top this time. “I told you not to touch anything.”

You start, thinking he knew you tried to pry open the cabinets across the room, but you see he's staring at the table lamp aside of you. “Are you being serious right now?” you couldn't help but say. It's just a lamp. “I'll ask your permission next time if I want light then, _master_.”

He frowns and walks over to you, and you brace yourself for physical retaliation. Instead he holds out your clothes, expecting you to take them. “Here. You can change into these. I'll be over there working until you're finished,” he says.

You're taken aback. “Uh, no way. I'm not changing out here. Don't you have a closet I can use or something?”

But he ignores your question and is already walking over to his station.

You scratch the back of your neck, the robe and sweat still making you itchy and uncomfortable. After watching him a few minutes to see if he tries to sneak a peek, you feel confident enough to discard the awful robe and pull on his sweat pants. As you tug the shirt over your head, you catch the familiar scent that reminds you of spicy clove. You slip your shoes back on and make your way over to Saeran.

He's already busy typing, his leg tapping impatiently to an unheard beat. Each screen shows various pieces of information and you're eager to soak it all in, but soon realize it means nothing to you without context. You did manage to pull one piece of valuable information from the computer screen though: it's past two o'clock in the afternoon. A sense of comfort washes over you. You're one step closer back to reality.

“So, what am I suppose to be doing?” you ask.

“Just wait on the couch until I need you.” He doesn't look away from the screen and continues to tap his leg.

“Fine.” You can't help but feel a little disappointed. This is the whole reason you were kidnapped, after all. He wanted you as an assistant and yet now that you're in front of him, ready to assist, he has nothing for you.

You throw yourself back on the couch and instantly regret it when you hit your fresh bruises. For a few minutes you sit there, poised and waiting, but as your headache slowly fades and the heat of the room wraps around you like a blanket, you push his leather jacket away and curl up into the cushions. All you hear are his fingers tapping across the keyboard. The monotony is relaxing. You close your eyes. You'll just doze until he needs something. But you fall asleep for hours.

 


	8. Questions

*** 8 ***

 

“You realize a cat could do my job, right?” you say to him from the couch.

It's been a week since you started assisting Saeran with his work, if you could even call it that. You're more like a glorified gofer or maid. Get him this or that, put this away, bring him water, clear off the table, turn on the lights, vacuum, collect trash, organize the filing cabinet, run errands through the mansion... such menial tasks. You refuse to believe you were captured by a religious cult just so this grown ass man didn't have to get out of his chair. The thought of it makes you furious, but another part of you finds comfort in staying here.

The room is always warm, and the couch is cushier than your bed. One of the cabinets in the room houses a number of books – you nearly faint when he tells you – so you've been steadily paging through dog-eared computer manuals for entertainment, which furthers your suspicion that Saeran is a hacker, and perhaps runs the security system of Mint Eye. There are no disciples and no beatings, but you still get a daily pill for undisclosed reasons (it seems to have no physical effect.) Saeran leaves you alone most of the time, which you like, though you can't help but bicker or pick fights with him on occasion. Honestly, it becomes one of your favorite activities once you realize he doesn't intend on mistreating you. The most he's done while at Mint Eye is scold you, which you probably deserved at the time anyway.

“What are you saying over there?” he mumbles.

“Instead of kidnapping me, you could have just gotten a cat. All I do is sit on this couch anyway.” The memory of him capturing you seems far away now. You remember bits and pieces of the scene, like his hand over your mouth, his white-blond hair fringed with a pink halo, the weight of his body holding you down, but the rest is in abstracts. If you weren't currently facing a visual reminder, you could mistake the event for last week's dream. “I can't picture you cleaning a litter box though.”

“Can you stop talking right now?” He doesn't seem to be enjoying the one-sided conversation as much as you are.

“What are you doing anyway? You haven't officially told me yet and I'm your special assistant. Shouldn't I be, you know, assisting you with actual work?”

He spins around in his chair. “I told you before. You don't need to know.”

“So, you're not going to tell me?”

Saeran spins back around.

“Please?”

“No.”

You sigh. Now that your head is feeling better and your bruises have a chance to heal, you should get back to working on an escape plan. You remember your initial platform: survive, gain trust, and escape. So far, so good. You managed to remain alive and be initiated into the organization, essentially gaining some form of trust, so now is the time to figure a way out. But when you focus to put together a plan, your thoughts turn on you. Even if you leave the mansion, where will you go? As far as you can tell, Mint Eye is surrounded by dense forests, probably somewhere in the mountains. You aren't sure how far the closest town is, nor what direction it's even in. You have no money, no phone, not even your ID. You'd have to contend with disciples hunting you down, the weather, and the terrain. Your hopes are dashed when considering what comes after because it seems impossible to do alone. Immediately you're feeling light headed.

Saeran slamming his hands on the keyboard snaps you out of your thoughts. On the screen, you see a few photos blur by. One in particular catches your eye though: it's of a young man with strikingly red hair and yellow striped glasses. He looks happy. Grinning. Then his face is gone in a flash.

“Who was that just now?” you ask. You didn't expect him to tell you.

“No one.”

Of course. Everyone is apparently no one to Saeran.

The typing stops and he seems tense.

“Are you alright?”

“Why do you ask so many questions? It's distracting. Can't you just shut up for a while and let me work?”

You rub your forehead. “Don't even start this. You're the asshole who brought me here, so now you have to deal with me and my questions. If you can't even handle talking to another human being for more than five minutes then maybe you should just let me leave!”

“I can't let you go. You know too much!” He's facing you now in his chair, clearly aggravated. His voice breaks when you get to him. “You've been initiated by the Savior. You have the invitation to Paradise. You're here with me now. What more do you want?”

At those words, you explode. “I want my life back! My previous life! The one everyone tried to erase from me, but I still remember in fragments. Do you know how fucking terrifying it is being here? How much they drugged and beat me? Look at me!” You stand and hold out your arms. Even from across the room he should see the black bruises. “Do they do this to all their initiates or was I just special? Did they do this to you too?”

Saeran leaps off his chair. “The Savior was the only person who came for me after he left! She _saved_ me! She did what she had to do to give me a better life!”

“She saved you by beating you senseless? Drugging you until you can't remember anything about your old life?” You're hands are balled into fists now. How can he be so far gone? “Don't you miss who you were before all of this? What did they do to you?”

He starts laughing. It's eerie. Crazed. “No, no, no, she rescued me from that woman after he left, and took me in. Cared for me. He abandoned me but she got me out. Left me in that place with her for months.”

“After who left? What woman? Does this have to do with those pictures on your computer? With your work?”

“Stop talking!” he yells.

You flinch at his intensity. It's easy to get a rise out of Saeran, but this time you believe you struck a cord. Maybe he's just as much of a victim of Mint Eye as you are. From the look of it, he's been in their grips for a while.

“Saeran,” you begin softly, “please tell me what happened to you.”

“You need to go,” is all he can muster. Before you know it, you're being shoved out the door and into the hallway. You're left standing alone with your questions.

 


	9. Nightmare

*** 9 ***

 

When Saeran said you needed to go, you weren't sure if he meant for the rest of the day or for good. The hours pass by, a day, maybe three or four, and you begin wondering if he intends to keep you as his assistant after all.

You turn his words over in your mind trying to figure out what happened, but there isn't enough information to go on to form a clear story. All you can gather is that a person (“he”) left him behind with some woman and the Savior rescued Saeran, probably bringing him here. If Saeran was kidnapped and brought to Mint Eye, it's possible he went through the same abuse you endured in order to be initiated – no, maybe it was worse. He is completely delusional to believe in and work willingly for Mint Eye.

You can't help but wonder if his process was documented like yours, and where those books are currently stored.

It's clear he's been granted a lot of trust from the leader of the organization, so much trust that he's likely performing hacking jobs or running security for them. He was also sent on the mission to lure you into that apartment. What was so important about that apartment has had you baffled from the beginning, too. There were letters written on the door, but you can only remember an R... maybe. You aren't sure anymore. The drugs took their toll on your memories.

You roll over in your bed, turning your back on the sunlight. A bowl of bland food with the consistency of soggy papier-mâché sits untouched on your dresser. Now that you've been initiated, you are free to roam the mansion but can only go as far as your key card allows. Many rooms, including the exits, are all sealed with electronic locks. You've already tried to enter restricted areas and failed. You're considering stealing an disciple's security card when you plan your escape. It would be more convenient to take Saeran's since you're sure he has unlimited access throughout the building, but at this point you're not even sure if you'll see him again.

You rub your temples out of frustration. The vague things Saeran said are still bothering you. What kind of person was he before entering Mint Eye?

There's a knock at your door and you nearly jump out of your skin.

“Y-Yes?”

“Saeran wishes to see you for work,” someone says. It's hard to recognize the voice, but it's of course one of the devote.

“I'll be there soon,” you tell them, and you go to change out of your sweats.

After taking the long way (you're getting better navigating the mansion now), you climb the steps to the hall with three doors, and the one leading to his office is cracked open.

You rap your fingers on the frame while letting yourself in so he's aware of your presence. He looks up from his computer but doesn't say a word, so you make yourself comfortable on the couch next to his leather jacket.

Neither of you speak for a while. It didn't matter right now. Part of you just feels better being let back inside. You like it more than your lonely suite. Even though disciples bother you from time to time to participate in chores or gatherings, or to supply you with your daily medicine, their company wasn't appreciated nor preferred. Saeran, despite his unhinged moments, is a surprisingly comforting presence most of the time. You believe it not only has to do with the distance he keeps, but also because you can see his face. The devote are always veiled and anonymous, and while Saeran may wear a different sort of mask, you can at least see his green eyes, the expressions he makes when you prod him with words, and his lips move when he talks to you. Knowing you are speaking with another human grounds you. The shrouded devote on the other hand allow your imagination to conjure images of monsters or demons masquerading in secrecy about the mansion. The thought of this keeps you alert and afraid, but inside Saeran's work space, a place they never seem to go, you're allowed to feel safe.

While Saeran is busy typing up a wall of glowing text, you pull over his leather jacket for a moment. You run your fingers across the material; it's smooth and worn from use. The only time you've seen him take it off was up here in his room. You hold the jacket up to you as if comparing it to your shape, and you catch a whiff of smoke and spice – that clove smell again. You delve into the pockets and find a pack of cigarettes, but no lighter. The pack is half empty. You put them back and happen to glance up to see Saeran watching you from the chair with an analytic expression.

“What are you doing? I don't want you touching my things.”

“Oh, sorry... I was just curious and there isn't much to do. Speaking of which, why did you call me up here? Someone told me you needed help or something.” You put the leather jacket aside.

“You took too long getting here so I don't need your help anymore.” He's back lit by the computer screens, giving his silvery hair a tinge of vivid, electric blue.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No, I don't.”

You're surprised to hear him say that. It emboldens you to ask, “Then why am I here? What do you want from me if not to help you with your work?”

Saeran swivels the chair back around. Then he's tap, tap, tapping away on his keyboard once more.

His most common answer is a non-answer, just like how everyone Saeran knows is no one. Instead of fighting with him for an explanation, you decide to let it go. He's calm, the room is warm, the sofa is inviting and your eyelids are heavy. You're beginning to realize the best sleep you're getting at Mint Eye is here on Saeran's couch.

As to not waste the opportunity, you curl up, rest your head on a throw pillow, and pull his leather jacket over you as a make-shift blanket. You watch the hypnotic text scroll by and listen to the monotonous typing for a while until you fall asleep...

A voice startles you awake. For sure you think one of the disciples made their way here to drag you back down to the basement for further cleansing, but you open your eyes to see Saeran's room awash in a blue green light. The Mint Eye logo is blazing on all screens. Saeran is hunched over his keyboard and isn't moving.

You sit up, the leather jacket slipping from your body. How long were you out for?

“Saeran?” you call, but he doesn't respond.

You get off the couch and cross the room. That's when you hear it again. A murmur you can't quite make out. You stand beside his chair now and realize he must have fallen asleep while taking a break. His head is supported by his right arm, his hand firmly pressing against his forehead and face.

“N-no, no, don't,” he gasps. You can see his body twitch slightly and his breathing become erratic. He's dreaming.

Out of sheer curiosity, you bend down next to the chair to see if he'll say anything else.

“Don't... tie... mother please...” Each word escapes in a breathy whisper. “Luciel...”

Who?

Saeran jolts now, his voice cracking. It sounds as if he wants to scream in pain. This isn't a dream, it's a nightmare. You consider waking him when he thrashes violently. You cry out from surprise and suddenly he's out of his chair and you both spill to the floor. He's on top of you, his hands wrapping around your neck while shouting, “You abandoned me! You left me to die!”

You claw at his wrists but your bitten nails can't catch. Oh god, he's going to suffocate you!

He shakes you hard, your head bouncing off the floor. “You left me! You left me! YOU LEFT ME!”

You're kicking your legs as hard as you can but he presses his fingers into your throat. “Saer-” you try to shout but its a hoarse whisper. Your sight is going black. This is it.

Just as you're going under, he releases you completely.

You cough and wheeze to catch your breath, the air burning your lungs. Your whole body spasms as your heart hammers against your rib cage, the blood pounding at your temples. You try to steady yourself enough to sit up. It takes a few minutes.

Saeran is on the floor trembling and breathing hard, his eyes wide with terror and rimmed with tears. They're glazed and unseeing.

Now that you can breathe again, you cautiously make your way over to him. He's awake, but you're afraid he will still confuse you for the person he wanted to strangle.

You put your hand lightly on his arm but he jerks away, his eyes darting to see who's touching him. “Saeran,” you call as gently as you can. Your words are scratchy. “Hey, it's okay, it was a nightmare. It's just you and me here. You're okay now.” You ignore the burning in your throat.

He heaves a dry sob and it multiplies into panicky gasps for air.

In another attempt to comfort, you embrace him from behind and press your face to his back. His shirt is damp with sweat from his feverish dream. “Shhhhh, shh, shh,” you whisper. He goes rigid, but doesn't push you away.

You hold him like that until his breathing evens out with yours.

 


	10. Provocation

*** 10 ***

 

“Do you ever think about leaving here?” You're kneeling at the coffee table in Saeran's work room, busily folding paper into origami animals and flowers. It's been two days since the accidental attack, and the marks he left around your neck are in full bloom now. It's one of the few remaining bruises you can distinguish on your skin. Thankfully (though disturbingly), none of the disciples bothered to ask what happened.

He doesn't answer, so you try again, “What do you like to do when you're not working?”

Again, silence.

“Do you have a favorite color?”

Nothing.

You smooth out the creases of the folded paper cat, and then stand it up on the table. It joins your rabbit, frog, two cranes, and lily.

“Grab me the second file in the top drawer from over there,” Saeran orders without looking at you.

You sigh and get up from the table, taking one of the cranes with you. You unlock the filing cabinet, open the drawer to retrieve the folder he requested, bump the drawer shut with your hip, then deliver it to his desk. You leave the white crane there with the file as a small gift.

“What is this?” he asks when you're halfway back to the table.

“It's a paper crane.”

“Yeah, but why is it with the file?”

“I don't know. I had two and thought you might like it.” You kneel back down in front of the table. “You should get me some more paper so I can make 998 more.”

“What are you even talking about?” He spins around in his chair, the file in his hands but not open yet. You're a bit proud of yourself that he's distracted and talking to you, seemingly taking an interest in what you're doing.

“If I make 1,000 cranes, my wish will come true. Apparently that's how it works, if I'm remembering right.” You start the introductory folds to a new crane. He watches your hands from afar.

“That's stupid.”

“You're stupid,” you chide.

He scowls and turns back to his desk.

You laugh. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Do you want to watch me fold a crane? I can show you how to do it. It would go a lot faster if two people make them.”

But he ignores you.

“Fine, I guess I'll decide our wish then.” You shrug and get back to work.

The strangeness of returning to Saeran's room after what he did doesn't escape you. You know it's crazy to be sitting here joking with a guy who almost accidentally killed you a few days prior, you know it is, and yet here you are, folding paper cranes and making jokes. The incident did give you some new information to mull over though. You have a name, Luciel, though it doesn't do you any good. It's also safe to assume this is the person who abandoned Saeran, and the event was traumatic enough that he dreamed of strangling them. If only you weren't so curious and stood so near at the time.

Curiosity killed the cat, your mind sings.

“Only 997 to go,” you say. “Are you sure you don't want to help?”

He's still ignoring you, so you start another.

You want to know what happened to him and how he ended up serving Mint Eye. You know he was abandoned and she, the Savior, took him in, but there are holes in the story. Was she a complete stranger beforehand or someone he was already acquainted with? You remember he mentioned his mother in the nightmare, so what about his family? Didn't they miss him? You wonder if anyone is searching for Saeran or if Mint Eye is all he has.

Suddenly you feel very sad. What if it's true, if Mint Eye is his life and no one is coming for him? Does he have anyone who cares for him at all? You consider the Savior woman and immediately dismiss her as a viable possibility. Regardless of what Saeran believes, it takes a twisted person to set up such an organization, bring in outsiders, and erase their memories with drugs while simultaneously beating them as punishment. It's like implying the Devil saved you from a terrible situation on Earth and delivered you to Hell instead. Perhaps - and this makes you sadder still - if all you've known is hell, then any removal from the former situation can look like salvation, even while you're burning alive because of it.

You've been here for nearly three months now, according to the digital calendar on Saeran's computer, and the things you've experienced certainly left their mark on you, physically and mentally. You're paranoid of the shrouded figures, developed nervous habits, your long term memory is shot, and your source of comfort is inside a dim room with your abductor. If this is how things degrade in almost three months, you wonder how it is after six, or an entire year.

Another crane finished.

You notice the light change slightly and look up to see the logo displayed on all screens. Saeran comes over to the coffee table to examine the mess you've made. Torn sheets and paper scraps are all over the surface and your collection of origami figures is slowly growing.

“Did you finally come over to help?”

“No, I'm done for now. You can go.”

You frown. You were really enjoying making these cranes. “What if I don't want to leave just yet?”

“You don't have a choice. Why don't you ever just listen?”

You stand up and counter, “Why don't you ever just answer my questions?”

“There's no point.” He's starting to become irritated.

“You're really a jerk sometimes, you know that? We're both stuck here together, so why can't we at least hold a conversation lasting longer than two minutes?” Your pent up frustrations are rising to the surface. “You're the only goddamn person in this place I can stand to be around, but it really seems like you can't stand to be around me, which, by the way, is completely ironic considering you're the one to brought me here! If you hate my company so much, then throw me back out in the world so I can continue living my old life. I can barely remember it anymore, but it for-fucking-sure was better than this!”

He gives pause as if to respond, but still doesn't say anything.

“Nothing? You still have nothing to say?” You shove him backwards hoping to provoke something. It works.

He pushes you back and you lose your footing. The couch catches your fall and suddenly you're pinned between the cushions and his body. Saeran's cold hands are on your shoulders and one of his legs pushes between yours. Those pale eyes glare down at you with intensity. “You want to know why I don't answer your questions? It's because you confuse me. Everything inside my head turns to white noise and all I can think about is you sitting here on this damn couch every day, just talking like we're friends and asking me things no one has ever bothered to ask before. When I have nothing to offer, you just keep searching like you're gonna find something. There's nothing there,” he tells you. “I can't let you leave, but you're no good for me staying here. I can't focus because my thoughts just turn to static.”

“Then why don't you keep me away?” you breathe.

“Because I like it,” he whispers, and then he's kissing you, parting your lips with his tongue. It's demanding and filthy.

You're alarmed at the sudden contact, but god does it feel good. You fall into it willingly, but in the same way a person throws themselves over a ledge of a twenty story building. It's exhilarating... until you realize the ground is racing up to meet you with an unforgivable consequence. But you're just at the start and the excitement coursing through you cannot be stopped now that you're on your way down.

He pulls away and starts placing warm, wet kisses along the column of your tender neck. His teeth nip at your skin and you can't help but gasp as they hit the bruises he left behind a few days prior. They become rougher, wanting, his bites seeming to trace the marks on purpose with the intention to darken their bloom.

You're feeling hot, almost dizzy. You trace a hand up his body and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling every time he uses his teeth on you. He's breathing heavy and you can feel it ghost across your skin as he works. It makes you quiver with pleasure.

You need more.

As if hearing your plea, Saeran moves back up to your lips with a devouring kiss, his tongue slipping into your open, begging mouth. You pull him even closer, your hand firmly on the back of his neck and holding him in place, demanding he stay. His body presses against yours, letting you know he doesn't intend to leave until he's finished with you.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! I feel I must apologize that I'm not a smut writer ; ; I enjoy my fair share of smut, have no problems with smut, but I cannot write it (not my strength.) But I will imply the hell out of their sexual relationship when it is necessary ヾ(✿❛ω❛)ﾉ 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! ♡


	11. Jihyun

*** 11 ***

 

You may or may not have just slept with your captor.

No, you definitely did, and you enjoyed every shameless second. Every bite, moan, scratch, kiss, tease, and thrust. Just when you thought your body could finally begin erasing the evidence of your capture, Saeran brands you for himself. The finger-like bruises around your neck are now marred with teeth marks and his love-bites travel all the way to your curviest bits. You're quite a sight in the mirror.

Steam from the shower fills the bathroom and begins fogging the glass. Wasting no more time, you climb in.

It was wrong and selfish, though you didn't regret it because it made you feel alive. After arriving at Mint Eye you've been forced to obey, assimilate, and forget nearly all the things that made you a person, but yesterday, you were human again. Even when you comforted Saeran those days ago, it felt good for you to have your arms embracing another, helping him, calming him with your touch. Maybe the reason Saeran keeps you around is because on some level he needs it too, but the concept is so foreign to him it's disorienting. It could be the thing that's turning his thoughts to static, as he put it. If you try to imagine being isolated at Mint Eye for months, possibly years, you can begin to see why having another person appear and stay at your side can be troubling.

You sigh, feeling quite complicated about the situation.

You need to get out of Mint Eye but Saeran shouldn't stay here either. This is where you're conflicted: how do you convince Saeran to leave? You're doubtful he'll accept your idea to escape together, though his help would be valuable. You're almost certain he takes care of Mint Eye's security systems when he isn't working hacking jobs, so not only would he have access to restricted exits, he could also take down any outdoor video feeds, allowing a significant head start for when you're both chased. You're also aware he has access to a car and knows how to navigate back to civilization. Treading on the subject though has you stumped.

You're thinking again of the possible existence of a journal documenting Saeran's “purification” process. If such a book exists, perhaps there will be something in it that can convince him to leave. It... seems like a long shot, but you don't have any other ideas. Although you're unsure where the records are kept, your first potential lead already frightens you: the female disciple with the leather strip.

You finish your shower, step out, and wrap yourself in a towel. While you dress, you decide to leave your hair down again today to distract from your neck. There's no turtle neck sweater or a scarf to hide under.

Shortly after slipping on your shoes you receive a knock at your door for your morning medicine. You take the pill, swallow, and open your mouth to the veiled disciple to prove it's gone.

“Thank you,” she says, and takes your glass.

You recognize that voice. It's her! How quickly your luck has turned in your favor.

She begins walking down the hall towards the kitchens and you promptly leave your room to follow. The disciple is aware of your lingering presence. “Do you need something?” she asks.

“N-No, I'm just going to the kitchen for some breakfast.”

You both reach your destination. The disciple discards the glass of water by one of the sinks while you idly search a cabinet for a bowl. You keep her in your sights, making sure not to confuse her with another shrouded devote. Her petite stature helps distinguish her from the rest, but that's all.

She exits the kitchen and heads for the staircase leading to the third floor. You close the cupboard to continue your pursuit up the steps, trying to maintain distance while still retaining a visual. It's more difficult than you initially thought. A few times she stops to exchange words with fellow disciples, so you feign interest in a framed photograph on the wall without looking too conspicuous. The photo is an artsy macro shot of something you couldn't quite figure out, aside from it appearing to be organic. Perhaps it was a close up of a plant. You weren't sure. It didn't matter once you realized she was on the move again.

“Do you like it?”

You look over to see a tall, shrouded devote standing by your side, the mask-like face staring forward, appearing to be focused on the photo. Their proximity and overall stature makes you uneasy; they're taller and broader than the average disciple.

Oh, not now! You turn back to see where the female disciple has gone but it's no use. You can't decipher which one she is among the others loitering in the hall. For all you know, she could have entered into a room while you were distracted moments earlier.

“I used to love shooting in macro,” they continue as a way to fill the growing silence. “It's a great way to gain new perspective on something common, or as a way to find beauty in something one considers ugly.”

You give a soft sigh. Just when you receive a hint of luck, it's snatched away just as fast. Defeated, you turn your attention to the unanticipated conversation. “Yeah... it's a nice photo. Do you know who took it?” Even though this disciple is being friendlier than most, they still give you the creeps. It's better to engage than ignore though, as to not make them angry.

“This is the close up of a flower, right? I'm sorry, sometimes it's hard for me to see.” They laugh, but it's weighted with sadness.

“Oh, I suppose it's hard to see out of those veils, isn't it?” You didn't quite believe that since the female disciple with the leather never missed.

“That's not the entire reason, but it isn't important,” they say. “My name's Jihyun, but you're welcome to call me V. I don't believe we ever formally met.”

You're surprised how cordial he is. Most tend to ignore you. “It's nice to meet you. You seem to know some things about photography.”

He laughs again and it's lighter this time. “I used to be a photographer. You asked about who took this photo, right?”

“I did. Do you know?”

“Yes. I taught her how to use a camera, actually. It was taken by Rika. I'm certain you met her your first day here. She's the leader of the organization.”

“The Savior?” So she does have a name.

“If that's what you prefer to call her... then yes, that's her. She doesn't take many photographs anymore, but it's something she used to enjoy as a hobby.” He turns toward you as if to give a smile, but only the blank veil is seen. Then, his head tilts as if something catches his attention. “Are... you okay? Your neck.”

“What? Oh, oh yeah uh, it's okay. Really.”

“I may not be able to see very well, but I can tell it's bad. Come on, let's go to the infirmary and have a closer look. I'll be able to see it better in the light.”

“Really it's fine. You don't have to,” you start, but he's already walking away. You chew your lip, glance back down the now empty hallway and decide to follow him. Your fears leave you no choice.

The infirmary is a small bright room with a single bathroom attachment, which reminds you of your suite, but is instead furnished with cabinets and counter tops holding painkillers, ointments, band aids, jars of cotton balls, gauze, tape, medical equipment, and more. The walls are stark white and sterile. It makes you uneasy, and not just because you're trapped inside this room with one of the disciples. It needlessly brings up the faded memory of the needle in the basement for purification. Also, you've never heard of a mansion having a medical examination room. Extra weird.

The disciple removes the veil to reveal the face of a young, handsome man with milky eyes – could he be partially blind? - and turquoise hair. He looks very familiar, and it takes you a few moments before you can place him.

“You're the one who ran out of the Savior's sitting room the day I went to be evaluated,” you say.

He nods. “Yes, that was me. I'm sorry if it caused you any trouble with your meeting.”

“It's alright. It didn't seem to. What did you do to make her so angry? I mean, if you don't mind me asking.” You recall her shrieking and the glass shattering against the door frame.

“We have... a complicated relationship. Though I can't discuss what the meeting was about, I suppose it's obvious it didn't go so well... Anyways, sit up here,” he insists and pats the counter.

You hop up, and he brushes your hair back to get a better look in the light. Though he is gentle, you flinch at his light touch. It makes your heart beat a little faster. “I appreciate your concern, V, but I'm really okay. There's nothing you can do anyway for some simple black and blues.” You hope he doesn't say anything about the bite marks.

“You're working with Saeran, right?” He examines the other side.

“I – Yeah, I am.”

“Did he do this to you?”

“He...” You pause, unsure how to really explain it. There's no way to say someone tried to strangle you without it sounding alarming. “It was an accident. He was having a nightmare and it got so bad that he attacked. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time, I guess. He thought I was the person from the dream.”

V stands back now, apparently finished. “A nightmare?”

“Something about someone named Luciel. I don't know. He was really upset. Do you know anything about Saeran, V? He doesn't talk about himself much.”

He's quiet for a moment, and tense. “Not... a lot, but I know he's had a very rough life even before coming here.”

“A rough life, huh?” You wonder if it could have really been worse than being taken in by Mint Eye.

“I'm sorry, but I need to attend to something,” he says abruptly. “Just... be careful of Saeran, alright? If you ever need anything, please come and find me. I promise to help you anyway I can.”

You slip off the counter. “Yeah, sure.” He probably doesn't realize how big of a promise he's just offered. Regardless, why would he help? There's something about V you find strange. It's nothing about his character overall, but rather the contrast of his character inside Mint Eye. What was someone so... normal and kind doing here?

“Here, take some gauze if you'd like. At the very least, you can cover the marks if they make you self conscious.” He gives you a roll from a nearby glass paneled cabinet.

“Thank you, but you're the only person who's cared enough to ask about it,” you tell him.

At that, V smiles down at you sadly before covering himself with the veil again.

You two make your way to the door when he stops to say, “I know it isn't my place, but if you are truly alright with being around Saeran, someone like you may be good for him. I think... he needs a persistent sort of kindness. The type of generosity that endures. I say this because in some ways, he reminds me of someone I know personally. But still, please be careful and take care of yourself.”

 


	12. White Noise

*** 12 ***

 

A continual stream of white noise fills his head, overriding his daily tasks and causing Saeran to stare down at his keyboard for minutes at a time until he can gather enough focus to continue his work... only to become overwhelmed again and stop. All he cares to think about is that damn girl.

In the years Saeran's been at Mint Eye, he's never experienced an issue quite like this. He's hurdled his way through his new life consumed with the goal of finding and taking revenge on his twin brother who abandoned him – convinced to do so because of V - and leaving Saeran to suffer the wrath of their vile, drunken mother alone. The promise Luciel made to get them out broke to pieces and everyday Saeran cuts himself on the shards, experiencing the sharp and painful realization he was discarded by the person he loved and trusted most. If it wasn't for the Savior intervening, he might be dead. She's the first and only person who's ever cared for Saeran. She also told him the truth: Luciel knowingly and selfishly abandoned Saeran to pursue a life without the dead weight of his brother holding him back. Now though, the need for revenge is subdued by this girl's mere presence and the distracting questions she asks everyday.

When he initially considered the attractive idea of her becoming his assistant, he never anticipated this...static. When it happens, it erases everything inside of him and against the backdrop of pure noise, it's only her: her words; her laugh; her snores and soft murmurs when she naps; even the moans and gasps she makes at the demand of his lips, teeth and tongue across her body. The world falls away and she's the only person left with him. He hated it at first.

The static began as soon as he brought her to Mint Eye. During the time she was being prepped for initiation to receive the invitation to Paradise, he was deemed responsible for her well-being because it was his actions that brought her here to begin with. Saeran met with her once a week to gather a list of items she needed - Mint Eye only had so much to offer to new followers - and deviated the task of buying the items to a female devote as to not waste his time. There was still work to be done, especially since the scheme to plant her in the R.F.A. fell apart. But when he sat down with intentions of fulfilling his task list, he found his thoughts consumed by the loud silence. It grew worse by the day, causing him to request the Savior to evaluate the girl for initiation. If she was ready for the invitation to Paradise he could then have her as his assistant, as promised. Saeran thought if she was in his presence, the white noise would stop and he could continue working in peace. However, that wasn't the case.

When she finally arrived, it grew worse. He tried to ignore her but she continued to speak to him and ask questions, breaking any remaining concentration he had left. Saeran couldn't understand why she wanted to know such useless things about him anyway, things he never had to consider while at Mint Eye. They were simple questions: what is his favorite color or what did he enjoy doing when he wasn't seeking his revenge, and it disturbed him to realize he had no answer. Beyond his hatred for his mother, for his brother, for V – for his life – there is nothing else. There is only the anticipation for Paradise. A release. Her questions paired with this realization inspired him to change tactics. If he couldn't ignore her, then perhaps giving her his fullest attention would make the white noise stop. When the opportunity came, he kissed her. Instead of pulling away, she responded and brought him closer, inviting him to continue. It felt electrifying to have her hands brush against his skin and through his hair, her lips on his, tongue in his mouth. Her fingertips felt as if they left sparks while trailing down his back. Her bites a pleasurable sort of pain. He tasted all of her: mouth, skin and sex. It made his heart quicken and his skin flush to feel her arch underneath him, which was his eventual undoing. He gave her everything, and the white noise grew worse still.

Saeran now craves her touch, her kisses, and her voice. These things bury the hate and frustration he's felt for so long, burying them beneath a new, nameless sensation that's devouring him whole. The crazy thing is: he likes it. It feels good, and it scares him. He doesn't know where to go from here. Saeran can't ignore her and knows he shouldn't keep providing her the attention his body wants to give. Letting her leave also isn't an option (for the organization or for him), yet having her inside Mint Eye is distracting from his main goal.

He takes one last breath off his cigarette and then throws it to the pavement, snuffing it with his boot. Saeran exhales towards the sky. It's an overcast day with the sunlight diffusing through darkening clouds. The wind has been steadily increasing while Saeran had a cigarette with the intentions to clear his head. With the wind came the hiss of leaves and the earthy scent of rain.

 

* * *

 

A clap of thunder rumbles through the entire mansion of Mint Eye, and it's so loud you can hear the picture frames on the wall shudder. Your stomach already twists into knots at the impending storm. Honestly, you love a good thunderstorm, or at least you think you do. You try to remember a specific memory, but one doesn't surface until you hear another crack. You think about looking out the window of your old apartment, watching the gray clouds tumble across the sky while dumping sheets of silvery rain. You hear the whisper of raindrops hitting the sill, the gurgling of a gutter pipe, and the tinkling of your small wind chime. The air is damp and perfumed with the intoxicating fragrance of flower petals, fresh leaves, steamy asphalt, and cut grass. Only loud thunder and violent winds make you nervous. The rest makes you yearn to curl up in a blanket by a window.

Unfortunately for you though, you're making your way to Saeran this afternoon. It's unfortunate only because this is your first time going back to work after you two hooked up on his couch, and you're not quite sure what to expect.

Climbing the steps leading to the short hallway with three rooms, you reach the top to find the door furthest from you ajar. This piques your curiosity. You've never been inside that room before. Quietly walking past the office, you approach the door and peep inside.

The bedroom is only lit by soft gray light from the uncovered windows. Rainwater beads down the glass and the pattering creates a comforting sound which fills the room. The scent of spice and clove lingers in the still air. The room is simple, like yours, with eggshell color walls and typical furnishings like a dresser, nightstand, lamp, and bed, but personalized items like clothes and bedding are dark in color, mostly black. Saeran is laying on top of the blankets of his bed, asleep. He's fully dressed in his usual clothes: a crimson top, black jeans, his spiked leather cuff and – something new – a buckled black leather collar wrapped around his neck. Probably from tossing in his sleep, his shirt is pulled up on one side revealing a glimpse of the smooth, pale skin above his belt. His jacket is strewn across the floor near the bed. Though it was planned for you to arrive this afternoon for work, his nap certainly was not.

You stay in the doorway for a few moments, just listening to the rain and looking at Saeran in the subdued light of the room. Then, you step over the threshold while silently shutting the door behind you, a motion which closes off the rest of the mansion, the disciples – the entirety of Mint Eye itself.

He's laying on his side, so you sit in the curve he's making with his body. Saeran flinches awake, eyes wide and confused. “H-How did you get in here?” He begins shifting to sit up but you put a delicate hand on his shoulder to signal he can stay.

“You left your door open,” you tell him. “I came up for work but saw you in here so I... just sort of let myself in. I'm sorry if I startled you.”

“Oh...”

You glance out the window to see the wind noiselessly scattering leaves from the trees. “Do you want to go to your office now?” Your face grows warm at the uninvited memory of you two on the couch. It's difficult not to associate it with that room anymore.

He's quiet for a moment, his green eyes staring towards the window too. “No, I'd rather stay here.”

“Me too,” you catch yourself saying.

Saeran looks at you then, his feathery hair slipping back from his forehead.

“Well...” you start, breaking the silence, “if we're both going to stay here, would you mind if I lay with you? It's been a while since I've heard the rain. I'd like to listen to it, if you don't mind.”

“Yeah, okay...”

You smile and lay down in front of him, molding the shape of your body to his. Saeran is tense as if he's unsure of what he's supposed to do. You laugh a little. “You can put your arm around me you know. It's more comfortable that way.”

A few seconds later he drapes his arm over your waist and his other, with no where else to go, stretches out underneath the pillows. His breathing is calm and deep and his heart pulses against your back. It beats a steady, comforting rhythm. You close your eyes for a moment, soaking in the illusion that you're anywhere else but Mint Eye.

You and Saeran lay like that for a while, just listening to the rain and thunder outside the window panes until you ask, “What am I to you?” You didn't expect an answer. Usually Saeran didn't give one. But you've been questioning the things he said before he kissed you yesterday and couldn't help but ask it. There's a reason he isn't keeping you away even if it's causing him trouble.

“I don't know.” The words tumble from his mouth slowly. “I don't know what you are to me.”

You watch a bead of rain slip down the glass. “Do you like my company?”

“Yes...”

You turn over, and it startles him. “Do you like me touching you?” You grab his hand with yours and lightly brush your fingers up and down his skin. Goosebumps rise along his arm.

“I do...”

“What about... you touching me?” You press his cool hand against your warm cheek. Surprisingly he loosens from your grip and runs the back of his slender fingers down your face. The gesture summons the memory of the first night you arrived, though this time, instead of it feeling wrong, it is affectionate and tempting.

“Yes, I like that too.”

You smile and grab his hand again, holding it to your chest next to your heart. “You're answering my questions now.”

He looks away, though his gaze can't help but return. “These are things I have answers to and... I feel comfortable around you. I don't know why I do, and it's strange, but I do.”

“Does it scare you?” His eyes already tell you it does.

“Yes.”

“Is there a specific reason?” Your fingers trace lazily up and down his arm, rising and falling over his muscles.

“There is, but I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay, we don't have to,” you tell him. “If not a specific reason, then is it because you're afraid of getting hurt?”

“It... yeah I guess. I don't know. It's just... new.”

You begin drawing stars, circles and other shapes over his skin. He watches your fingers glide and spin. “Did... you like what we did yesterday, in your other room on the couch?” you ask quietly.

He looks at you and nods.

“I did too. It's probably the first time I've felt alive since being here, you know?”

“I thought it would make the white noise stop, but I think it just made things worse,” he admits. “Even right now, I can't stop thinking...”

He didn't need to finish his sentence. You were thinking about it too.

You move closer and place a light, chaste kiss on his lips. The second kiss is harder, questioning, and the third Saeran initiates himself as if he can't hold back any longer. You nip his bottom lip playfully as you both pull away. He tries to hide his smile. “I like when you do things like that, too.”

“Oh, do you? Then maybe you should tell me all the other things you like that I do to you,” you suggest teasingly.

He pauses for a moment as if in thought. You believe he's just toying with you until he says, “I like it when you're rough with me, like when you pull my hair, bite me, or leave scratches down my back.”

“Oh!” You're blushing hard. You bring his cold hand back up to your face in hopes of cooling off. “I wasn't expecting you to say that...”

Saeran doesn't hide his smile this time, and it's absolutely devious. He pulls his hand from your cheek and uses it to gently push you down while leaning over you. His lips graze your ear as he whispers, “Can I have you again?”

Your breath catches as he trails his tongue along your neck, finalizing his taste with a smoldering kiss. “Y-Yes.”

 

* * *

 

The stormy afternoon gives way to a rainy evening, causing the gray light to steadily shift to gold and cast a warm glow to the room. Rain is still falling, sparkling in the fading sunlight and you can see massive black clouds rolling in from the south, already blotting out the reds, oranges, yellows and violets of the impending night sky. In the distance, a flash of lightning foreshadows another round of thunderstorms.

You're propped up against pillows on Saeran's bed in only a tank top and panties. Saeran is shirtless and resting between your arms, his head on your chest and looking towards the window while you lazily running your fingers through his feathery pink-tipped silver hair. His body stretches out against yours. Occasionally your eyes wander along his lean form, starting from his collared neck and moving to broad shoulders, down his muscle hardened arms, over a trim torso and stopping at his pant line to admire the smooth skin there. It was enough to make you take him again – and you did – but now you welcome the unfolding quiet. Only the rain is heard tapping against the glass and sill.

The two of you have been watching the sky for a while now. Neither spoke about leaving. You wonder briefly if a day off is even allowed, though you didn't really care. The fantasy of being anywhere but Mint Eye is strengthened by Saeran's unquenchable desire for contact, and you're happy to provide it. He's his truest self in these moments, which provides a glimpse to the kind of person he really is.

He wants control, and gleans pleasure from the satisfying results of his actions. It's nearly dominating until you playfully fight back, albeit through rougher means such as pulling his hair or on his collar, pinning his arms, or throwing him down and straddling him. Of course he holds the strength to outdo you, but it's more the message than the physical power. He never submits for long though, and you're often outdone by his skillful tongue and fingers, which leaves you shamelessly abandoning your rank to chase after your own pleasure. Regardless of his persistent need to be in control, it's always considerate of your involvement. This makes you feel important to him rather than disposable.

While at rest, Saeran seems to prefer the opposite, opting to be the receiver of comforting actions like petting and being embraced. It doesn't bother you, as the idle stroking of his hair unravels the tangled knot of anxiety you've developed during your months at Mint Eye, and his warmth, his heartbeat, his overall closeness allows you to feel secure, too. Everything strikes a pleasant balance.

The sun vanishes from the sky, overtaken by the impending storm clouds or the night – you weren't sure which came first – but it signaled an end. It's probably for the best if you leave, though you didn't really want to.

“Saeran, I think I have to go back to my room now,” you say quietly.

He stirs as if he's drifted to sleep again. “You're leaving?”

“I have to, don't I? It's the end of the day.”

He's quiet for a moment and doesn't budge until you begin moving. “Yeah, okay.”

You both get up from the bed and you try to find your pants in the dark. Saeran turns on the table-side lamp, making it easier to find what you're looking for. They were hidden under one of the blankets. Shimmying into your jeans, you also find your socks, shoes, and bra. He watches from the dresser.

“Will you be back tomorrow?”

The question catches you off guard, making you mess up tying your shoe. “Do you want me here tomorrow?”

“Yes, I do,” he admits. “I'd like it if you came back.”

“Well, lucky for you, I have no where else to go.” You laugh, but he doesn't seem to find it funny.

Saeran's staring intently instead. “If you had another place to go though, would you leave?”

Suddenly, you get it - and you feel stupid for your previous comment as an attempt at humor. When you're done tying your shoe, you stand and turn to him. “If I did leave, I'd rather you come with me,” you tell him.

Despite how you arrived, all the things you're learning about Saeran lead you to believe he is a product of negative influence and environment. Although it doesn't fully excuse what he's done, you're willing to understand and accept his hand was guided by those who dominate his life for the worse. You genuinely believe with the right help he can be saved, but that can only happen if he escapes. 

You come closer to say, “I have no intentions of abandoning you, Saeran.”

At that, he embraces you tightly as if to say 'thank you.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter! The beginning section detailing Saeran's thoughts keeps reminding me of the song "Tear You Apart" by She Wants Revenge though ~ haha (It's a good song if it's your type of genre!) 
> 
> Thanks again for reading!


	13. The Origami Cat

*** 13 ***

 

The following afternoons carry out in a similar fashion for nearly two weeks – you go to his office with the intentions of assisting him with work, but later find yourself at the mercy of Saeran's body, begging him for release. (God, how he loves to tease you!) You didn't mind. In fact, you looked forward to it as soon as you left to go back to your suite for the night. Not only is the sex gratifying, you also thoroughly appreciate the restful moments afterwards or in between.

Sometimes he's laying against you, your fingers running through his messy hair, short nails pleasantly grazing or massaging his scalp. Sometimes your fingertips run along his cheekbones, slowly moving downwards to trace the outline of his jaw, and down further still to play with the black leather bound around his neck. He turns towards your touch naturally, like a leaf seeking sunlight. You find the small noises he tends to make endearing: the soft moan against your chest when he collapses to embrace you, the breathy sigh when you make a lame joke, the hum when you ask a question that bears repeating. He also has a habit of stifling his grins, but his eyes always give him away.

Sometimes you're the one laying against him, your head pressed to his firm chest listening to his heart song until you drift to sleep. Sometimes he looks at you curiously with those pale green eyes underlined with smokey liner, and he decides to kiss your forehead, your cheek, or your lips. After everything you two have done, he still manages to provide shy, near innocent kisses. They cause your heart to flutter. They're the good kind of surprises. But these good things are becoming overshadowed by a haunting concern.

It's becoming harder to recall details or memories. Though this isn't necessarily new – your mind has always been trapped in a haze since arriving at Mint Eye – the memories effected are short term. They're simple enough, like forgetting to put toothpaste on your toothbrush, skipping a step in the shower, or forgetting laundry in the washer for a day. Sometimes on your way to the kitchen you make a wrong turn. Multiple times on your way to Saeran's room your mind blanks, unable to remember the path, so you wander aimlessly until you do. At first you brushed them off, believing it's the symptom of a distracted mind, but as time progresses and you keep finding yourself forgetting even the simplest of things, you're not so sure. Regardless, the problem is shelved for later contemplation once you're with Saeran.

Today, both of you are in his room again, the coffee table stolen from the office space and placed in the middle of his bedroom floor. The surface is littered with shreds of paper while you and Saeran sit in the company of numerous cranes and the occasional flower. Late afternoon sunlight pours in through the window warming the patch where you sit, and creates illuminated, golden shapes across the tabletop. The door leading out to the rest of Mint Eye is shut tight.

“Wait, no, this isn't right,” you say as you make another fold. You're showing Saeran how to make an origami cat again, but somehow missed a step along the way.

“Let me see,” he says, and takes the disfigured cat from your hands. He studies it, pulling apart your work. “Stupid, you forgot to fold this part. That's why it didn't come out right.”

“Who are you calling stupid?” you pout while snatching the cat back. You examine the mistake. How did you miss that? “I'm the one who even showed you how to make these, remember?”

“Yeah okay, but you've been doing this for a while, right? I just started and made two perfect cats already.” As if to prove his point, he slides them towards you while smirking.

You blow them over playfully. He gasps like he's offended and then begins folding another.

“Okay okay but we need a crane army, not a cat army,” you tell him while you make the minor adjustments to fix your origami.

“Do you really think this isn't enough?” He motions to the cranes all over the floor.

“Does that look like 1,000 cranes to you?”

“It's 1,000?” Saeran looks shocked. “I thought it was only a hundred.”

“Hey, you gotta put in the work if you want to make that wish.” You finish the cat, though it's still slightly disfigured because of the previous folding error, and place it next to Saeran's two paper cats. They make a cute trio. “You still never told me what you want to wish for either.”

“I... don't really know what I want, I guess.” He sets up for a crane, his fingers streamlining his folds almost masterfully. It seems Saeran has a knack for learning things quickly.

“Really? But you can have anything. There's no rule for wishes, unless you try to cheat and wish for a billion wishes or something.”

“So you're saying there _are_ actually rules involved with wishes, stupid.”

You lightly punch his arm. “Shut up. Yeah okay so maybe there is, but still, it's nothing that's holding you back from making one!”

“No wait, it does, because that's definitely what I was going to wish for,” he jokes.

“So funny,” you say sarcastically. “Well if you don't have a wish, I'll just have to make it for the both of us.”

“No, don't we get two? That doesn't seem fair.”

“One wish per 1,000 cranes. Sorry. I don't make the rules, and you forfeited your wishing right when you didn't tell me,” you tease.

He breathes out a laugh while shaking his head, smiling, his eyes never leaving the crane he's working on. “I hope you make it a good one, then.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

There's a brief silence.

“Well are you going to tell me or not?” he asks.

You laugh. “Oh yeah, sorry. I...” You're nervous to say it, but go forward anyway. “...would wish that we could leave Mint Eye, together. Go somewhere far away where there's good food.”

He's quiet, focusing on the crane.

“I-Is that not good enough?”

“A far away place with good food isn't very specific,” he replies.

“Hah, yeah I guess it isn't... Do you think it won't be granted if I'm not specific enough?”

“I don't know.”

Your stomach twists, feeling like you overstepped by talking about leaving Mint Eye. You were caught up in the moment, too confident to say whatever you wanted without first considering his reaction. The fact that it made you nervous should have tipped you off.

“I don't know why you want to leave,” he says. The crane Saeran finishes joins the rest on the floor, and he immediately starts another without looking up.

“I... don't think this place is good for either of us,” you tell him gently. “I like being here in this room with you, but I don't like Mint Eye.”

He's still folding, but you've stopped in the midst of talking.

“Would it really be so bad if we left together?” you ask.

“I don't know if I can do that.”

“Why?”

He stops then and stares ahead, his arms folding on the table. “There's nothing out there for me.”

“What about family?” you ask cautiously.

“No... No there's nothing,” he says again. “I don't have anything outside of Mint Eye. Besides, things weren't so great before anyway. I don't want to go back.”

If Saeran is telling the truth, then your greatest suspicion has been confirmed: Mint Eye is Saeran's life now. It made your heart hurt. You move over to him, sitting side by side, and hug his right arm, forehead pressing against his tattoo. Your eye lashes graze his skin. “You don't have to go back to that life, you know. There's tons of possibilities for something much better.”

He sighs as if annoyed by your affection yet he doesn't shake you off. “I don't really believe that. It's safer being here.”

Something wells up from inside of you then, unhindered and breaking all emotional barriers you thought you had in place. It rushes to your face, stinging your nose, and seconds later your eyes are rimmed with tears. You go rigid. He can't see your face. You're okay. But they continue to gather and overflow, dropping onto his arm.

Saeran suddenly looks down as if he's terrified. “What's wrong? What are you doing?”

You try to blink the tears back. It's no use. “I-I'm sorry. I don't... I don't know...” your voice trails off.

“What's wrong?” he asks again.

You swallow hard. Ever since you started seeing Saeran, really seeing him for the person he is beneath the influences of Mint Eye, you've been bothered by a persistent thought brought on by your dwindling recollections. “Saeran, what if Mint Eye takes all my memories? What if I lose everything?”

He's taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

You fidget with the leather cuff on his wrist, your tears dropping on the spikes. “I'm afraid the pills they're still giving me... if the longer I stay here, I'll lose everything that makes me... me. Including the good memories we have. What am I supposed to do if that happens? You're the only good thing about this place.”

“Don't be stupid,” he tells you, but the look of concern doesn't vanish from his face.

“It's getting harder to remember things,” you say.

“Are you worried because of that cat you messed up earlier? It doesn't mean anything.”

“How do you know that it doesn't?”

“The Savior wouldn't do that...”

You scoff and wipe your eyes. “She let them beat me, Saeran. What makes you think she wouldn't continue messing with me? What is that little white pill for then?”

“What pills are you talking about?”

“They give one to me every single morning. Don't you get one?” you ask.

“No, I don't. I don't know why they're giving them to you,” he says quietly.

“This is why... I made the wish for us to leave. I don't want to stay here if it means becoming completely empty.” Another wave of tears roll down your face.

He finally wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and you're unable to contain your fears any longer. They escape in wet, gasping sobs, shaking your whole body.

“Shhhh. Stop crying,” he whispers.

It sparks the memory of you comforting him after his nightmare. It feels so far away now as if it happened in a dream. You cry harder.

“I won't let that happen to you,” he promises.

But you're not so sure.

 

* * *

 

It takes some time for her crying to stop.

She keeps worrying about the possibility of losing her memories, even the most recent ones they share together. Saeran thinks it's ridiculous. The Savior wouldn't take more than necessary from her, but when she shuddered in his arms, her tears seeming to never stop falling, it unlocked a feeling of doubt - something he's never felt towards the Savior before. Would his Savior actually plan for something like this to happen?

Immediately Saeran thinks, _no, of course not_. The Savior released him from his awful life, took him in and cared for him after he was abandoned by Luciel. She provided opportunity and he took to it willingly. She gave him a new life, a promise for revenge, and the hope for an everlasting party. Her goal is to save others from a life of pain, only removing what's necessary in order to purify them for their invitation into Paradise.

So why is this girl still receiving medicine?

He can't find a solution that doesn't require his obedient trust in the Savior.

“You should stay with me tonight,” he tells her.

She looks up from the crane in her hands, her eyes still a little red. “Are you sure? Won't anyone find it odd if I'm not in my room tomorrow morning?”

“Don't... worry about that. If anything happens, I'll take care of it.” Saeran didn't like her leaving every evening anyway, but she insisted, blaming it on the worry that she'll be punished if she's not there in her suite the next morning.

“Thank you,” she says and comes over to give him a hug. Her head nestles in the crook of his neck and Saeran's face is in her hair. He breathes in the familiar scent of her, which he's come to associate with only good things.

 


	14. Wavering Loyalty

*** 14 ***

 

You spend the following nights in Saeran's room, which has come to be your fortress against Mint Eye. A few times the disciples came, requesting your presence for the morning medicine and each time Saeran ordered them to leave. No disciple laid a hand on you, nor forced you to take the pills. After the fifth day they stopped coming. Though you're grateful, you begin to have nightmares about the repercussions, about the possibility of the disciples breaking in and beating you and Saeran to submission, or throwing you down in the cellar to be left there and forgotten. When the knot of anxiety twists and tangles inside your chest, you request Saeran to lay with you so you can stroke his hair, as if the act of untangling his silvery strands will also untangle your worries. It usually helps, for a time.

But you know it can't go on forever. Even though Saeran's room provides the illusion of being separate from Mint Eye, it is still part of the mansion and therefore part of the organization. The only way to be completely safe from the Savior's reach is to leave as soon as possible before you lose your mind for good.

You need to find the book that documents Saeran's purification process. You're still convinced it exists and holds information that will sway him to come with you, but have yet to locate it. The first time you tried you were distracted by Jihyun, who brought you to the infirmary to examine the strangulation marks on your neck. You made a few other attempts, but honestly they weren't worthwhile. Each time you lost sight of the female disciple. However, you know the corridor of suites the veiled devote seem to populate, which is something, you suppose.

You put the rest of your clothes in a black bag Saeran let you borrow. He requested you stay with him from now on. After you accepted his offer, you thought it was time to gather up the rest of your belongings, little as there were, and bring them to his floor.

Gripping the bag and heading for the door, you flip off the light and leave. In the hallway, a disciple is waiting for you. Your blood runs cold when you see the faceless woman standing there holding the leather strip in her hands threateningly.

“Come with me,” she says.

“O-Okay...”

She leads you down the hall towards the corridor of suites meant for the devote, unlocks one of the rooms, and orders you inside. You obey.

As you initially expected, the room is a bedroom suite similar to yours, but larger, containing a seating area and separate bath. It appears to be her private suite; personal items such as candles, incense holders, books, stationary, pens, pencils, cups and other such items decorate the tops of furnishings, though everything is neatly organized and clean. Although you're terrified of being trapped alone in a room with this woman, a small part of you also feels victorious. For weeks you've been searching for her room, and she brought you here herself.

It doesn't take you long to spot a bookshelf with a collection of bound journals, each with a name taped on the spine. There are more than you initially thought.

“You may think Saeran will protect you from your daily dose, but we'll give it to you one way or another. We can't go against the Savior's wishes,” she says. You watch her round a table and open a small wooden box. Inside are vials of little white pills.

You stay silent, too afraid to reply. Instead, you focus on the books. They exist. Though you're too far away to read the names clearly and too nervous to move closer, you know Saeran's has to be among them.

She snaps the box shut and you immediately give her your attention.

“Take this and swallow,” she commands.

You pause for a moment, but take the pill and try to swallow it down without water. When its done, you open your mouth automatically for her to check.

“Good. Now turn around,” she orders.

“What?” You took your pill, what more does she want?

“Do as I say.”

With both hands, you grip onto Saeran's bag and turn, beginning to shake at the thought of her behind you brandishing that awful leather. Then it hits, and you stifle a cry.

“One lash for each day you went without your medicine,” she tells you.

She hits you again on your back, again, and again, and again, and again. By the time she's done, you're doubled over on the floor clutching the bag to your chest, eyes shut tight but the tears still leak through.

“Now, get out.”

You get up so fast you nearly trip over your own feet. Bursting from the room and still clutching Saeran's bag to your chest, you retreat back to your fortress.

 

* * *

 

“I didn't think they'd actually do anything to you,” Saeran says. He applies an antibiotic to your back where the strip broke the skin. You twitch at the sudden coldness of the cream.

“I was stupid to believe nothing bad would happen if I refused my doses.”

You're laying face down on his bed, shirtless and with your bra unhooked while Saeran attends to your wounds. Though you can't see the state of your back, it's obvious the leather broke the skin in a few places, judging by how much antibiotic he's using.

“No, it's my fault. I should have went with you to help get your things,” he tells you.

You press your face into his bed, then turn it away from him. “It isn't your fault... Apparently this is what the Savior wants. If I don't take the pills as ordered, they beat me. This is all because of her.”

Saeran unwraps a few large bandages and begins sticking them over your cuts. “You... don't know that for sure.”

You growl out of frustration. “Yes, I do. The woman said so. She said they can't go against the Savior's wishes. I'm telling you the truth, Saeran.”

A silence stretches between the two of you and the longer it builds, the more hurt you feel.

“I just don't understand why she would do this. She's trying to build a world without pain and suffering. Her goal is to help people,” he says. He finishes laying down the bandages and you can feel him staring at the redness of your back. Then his fingers are lightly trailing your skin, touching the marks as if trying to make sense of it all.

“She's not a good person,” you tell him, still looking away. “A person who cares for others doesn't abuse or twist them into something they're not. You can't say you love someone while simultaneously making them suffer.”

“But she really did help me when I needed it.”

You turn towards him then. “What did she do for you?”

“She...” he pauses, as if unsure to continue.

You wait patiently, wondering if he'll open up about what happened or drop the subject like he's done so many times before.

“She saved me from my previous life... from the abuse of my alcoholic mother. She used to tie me up, make me stand for hours and not feed me for days. My brother Luciel lied, saying he'll get us out one day but he abandoned me instead, leaving me alone with that woman,” he tells you.

“I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize it was that bad for you.”

“The Savior's the reason for my new life. She wants to end all suffering, so I don't understand why she would be doing this to you.”

You lay there for a moment, thinking, then ask, “Saeran, were you happy here? I mean, before we started spending time together. Can you say you were truly happy here at Mint Eye?”

“I don't know,” he says.

“Do you really not know, or do you just not want to admit it?”

He's silent and looks away.

You sit up then, clasping your bra together and pulling on your shirt. You sit on your knees in front of him on the bed. “Look... I know you want to be loyal to someone who rescued you, I get it, but she doesn't deserve it. Don't you want more out of life other than working in that dark, suffocating room everyday? You never told me exactly what you do, but is it worth sacrificing yourself to accomplish it?”

Saeran remains quiet as if contemplating your questions.

“I think you're worth more than that,” you say softly. “After everything you've been through, you deserve a life of happiness.”

 

* * *

 

Her questions are uncomfortable, each one a key searching for their designated lock within him. When she first began asking Saeran questions, he thought there was nothing more to him than his persistent hatred of his previous life. Only the need for revenge and the escape to Paradise drove him to continue living. After her arrival, the ever-present white noise inside his mind buried these thoughts, and subsequently pulled her into focus. She became everything to him, a reassuring presence he could look forward to everyday. Her gentle touch soothed him, her kindness calmed, her constant appearance at his door everyday strengthened his trust, her patience made him feel understood, and her lame jokes always managed to make him smile or laugh. For the first time, he felt there is something more to him than his hatred. As he discovered these new things, it provided answers to some of her questions, but not all of them.

When she speaks about the Savior or Mint Eye, a confusing conflict emerges. Though he can see the unnecessary damage being done to this girl, his mind creates a barrier around the Savior, protecting her in a vault of unwavering trust. However, the evidence before him and the questions she continues to ask are beginning to unlock that vault, weakening the barrier, and causing him to think about what he truly wants despite the Savior's wishes.

“...Don't you want more out of life other than working in that dark, suffocating room everyday?...” she asked.

Before she came, he considered the world a place of betrayal, pain and distrust, with the Savior being the only person to genuinely care about him, encouraging him to learn his valuable hacking skills and offering him a place within the organization. He didn't believe there was more to life than that, but this girl gave him a taste of happiness and he desperately wanted more.

A part of him is still afraid her words are just lies and false hopes, similar to the kind Luciel fed him before abandoning Saeran completely for a better life. After her talks of leaving Mint Eye, he thought there would come a day he'd wake and she wouldn't be at his door. She'd vanish without a word, just like he did. The mere idea shatters him to pieces and beckons the memories of being alone in that house, starved of food and water, wondering if Luciel would ever return and deliver upon his promise.

But this girl came back to him everyday providing healing comfort. That's all he wanted, really, was for her to continue being there with him. If they escaped Mint Eye together, he feared she would dispose of him entirely by finding another, more important place to go, leaving him out there in the world alone all over again. Leaving Mint Eye with the intentions of escape only guaranteed he could never return. It's a huge gamble, one he is still currently unwilling to risk, though he can feel his resolve weakening.

Her key questions continue to unlock the chains that bind him to Mint Eye but the vault of trust surrounding the Savior still remains.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for sticking around to read this story! Last night I pushed myself to write up the final chapters (there are 20 total) and hope to edit them a bit before sharing. Right now, it looks like I'll be able to update every morning until they're all posted. I apologize in advance if I miss some inconsistencies or if things move too fast... This really needed to be finished so I can get on with my life ~ Ahh! (And they just released the special Christmas content in MM, which includes some new things with Unknown. My life is ruined.) 
> 
> ♡♡♡


	15. The Book

*** 15 ***

 

Everything is still. Pale moonlight leaks through the window and casts a dim, ghostly glow to the room. Saeran snores softly on the bed beside you, his breathing even and deep for the past ten minutes signaling he's finally fallen into sleep. You get out of bed and with the help of the moonlight find his jeans on the floor, partially hidden under some paper cranes. You search the pockets for Saeran's key card. You hoped he had the security clearance to enter rooms of other disciples or else your plan would fall apart before you could fully put it into action.

While wading through the cranes as quietly as you can, you decide to pick one up. After finding a pen on his dresser, you write a small message on the wing: _The truth will set us free_. You place the lone crane at the center of his coffee table and sneak out the door.

It feels like a suicide mission, but you're desperate for the book.

You meander through hallways trying to remember the exact path to the disciples' corridor. The darkness and your blurry memories make it difficult to navigate – you had to double back three times – but eventually you reach your destination. The hall is long, empty, and silent. All the demons must be slumbering, or at least you hope they are.

You pause outside her room.

Pressing your ear against the door, you hear nothing. Silence. No lights are on. She must be asleep. Taking a deep, shaky breath, you remind yourself what is at stake. Two lives. Yours and Saeran's.

You try his key card and it works. Dear god it actually works!

The sound of the lock clicking back is deafening. You open the door as quietly as you can and slip through, stifling your breaths. Though the room is clear of any obstacles, you quickly memorize your path to the bookcase before letting the door close soundlessly to encase you in near darkness. You reach the bookcase full of bound journals, your nerves humming and your ears pricking to every noise. Your eyes scan the bindings, looking for his name.

You don't see it.

Again, you start from the beginning and carefully, slowly scan for Saeran. It isn't here. You don't believe it. You refuse to believe -

The room is engulfed in blinding light and her voice cuts through the air like a knife directed at your back, “You! What are you doing here?” she shrieks.

You spin around, horrified to see the faceless woman coming at you, hands like claws reaching out to strike. You stifle a cry and push past her, breaking into a run for the door. She stumbles back. The time it takes for you to grip the handle and pull to open, she's snatched you by the arm. The woman is small enough that you drag the fight into the hallway and you both tumble to the floor, legs kicking, hands grabbing, arms flailing.

“Let go of me!” you shout. Her bony hands are constricting your wrists.

“Help! Help me!” she screams down the hall. You see lights coming on in each room, then doors opening and releasing disciples into the hallway. Many arrive still wearing their veils, even in the dead of night.

You're outnumbered.

 

* * *

 

“I knew something like this would happen,” she says.

You wake on the basement floor, face pressed against cold, rough stone. Between the black iron bars you see her, the beautiful blond woman with the dark emerald eyes: the Savior. She's dressed in her formal white robes, a blue and gold stole hanging off her slender shoulders and coming to rest across her lap. Her hands are clasped there. She looks prim but imposing.

You sit up and your head is pounding. It makes you wonder if someone hit you, causing the black out.

“When Saeran brought you here instead of disposing of you back at the apartments, I should have listened to my gut and done the job for him,” she goes on. “But he seemed to look forward to having a pet, so I let him keep you around. I see now it was a mistake. You're not a pet. He _cares_ about you. It's distracting from his only purpose, which is a problem.”

As you listen, you try to gather your thoughts or summon the energy to say something, but you can't. You're drifting, slipping in and out of reality.

“I suppose it's my fault for hoping these small doses would make you a blank slate. Maybe they weren't large enough... but, oh, I didn't want you forgetting absolutely everything! I wanted you to forget just enough but I see now you're resilient, just like Saeran was. I think I'll have to do the brainwashing myself this time, to make sure it's done right.” She smiles brightly.

Moments later, you hear footsteps. When you look up, you see Saeran standing in the door frame, his face expressionless and his eyes avoiding yours. “Savior... I'm here. What did you need?”

“Oh good, Saeran, you arrived,” the Savior says. “I was just having a lovely talk with your friend. I also have the card she stole from you. She used it to break into one of our disciple's rooms.”

She pulls Saeran's key card from her pocket and stands to hand it to him. He accepts it without a word.

“She will stay in the basement for a few nights as punishment for what she's done, but don't worry, she will not be harmed,” the Savior tells him sweetly.

_She's a liar! She's been deliberately erasing my memories_ , you want to scream to Saeran, but your voice is nowhere to be found. Every ounce of energy you have left is merely keeping you from collapsing back onto the floor.

“I'm sure you're upset about her betraying your trust by stealing your key, but what's done is done. We all learn from our mistakes, though it's always unfortunate how people will use others for their own gain. Come, let's go and leave her here to think about what she's done.” The Savior puts a hand on Saeran's shoulder to lead him up the steps.

He turns to follow, but glances back before exiting the basement.

Saeran leaving with the Savior without a word is enough to sap your remaining energy. You slip to the floor, unable to keep yourself up any longer, and everything goes dark.

 

* * *

 

You awaken again to find a disciple sitting in the chair instead of the Savior. It feels like only seconds went by since you last saw her. The swift change startles you. The faceless veil stares in your direction and the disciple waits, still as a mannequin.

You sit up and move away from the bars, watching cautiously.

“I'm glad you're finally awake...” they say.

The voice is gentle and familiar.

“V? Is that you?”

“Shhh, try to be quiet,” he tells you. “I'm not supposed to actually be here, but yes, it's me.” V lifts the veil a moment to show you his face as proof.

“What are you doing here?”

“I saw you in the hallway the other night fighting with one of the disciples. I had a feeling I knew what you were looking for, so I got this for you.” From his robes, he pulls a small leather bound book. On the front in elegant writing is the name _Saeran_.

Is this real or are you hallucinating? “Where was it? Oh my god, you have it.” The disbelief and excitement is apparent in your voice and V hushes you again.

“The woman who took over the record keeping wasn't the one who... looked after Saeran when he first arrived. The book was in Rika's possession. She's the one who handled Saeran's procedure,” he confesses.

You try to ignore the throbbing of your head and come closer to the bars now, taking the book from his hands. You stare down at the black cover; it's scuffed and the binding is creased from significant use. “But how did you know this is what I was looking for?”

He gives a small laugh. “I can't think of any other reason you'd want to visit that woman's room in the middle of the night after everything she's done.” Then his tone softens. “Once Saeran began neglecting his work shortly after your arrival, I could tell he started developing feelings for you - and it seems to be mutual, judging by your willingness to stay with him. These things were enough to give Rika concern anyway. If you were brave enough to seek out evidence of his initiation process, I can only speculate it's to convince Saeran to escape. I'd like to fulfill the promise I offered you.”

You're still staring at the cover. Something about this bothers you. “V... why are you doing this for me – for us?”

He shifts uncomfortably. “It's my fault Saeran ended up this way. I failed him and I'd like to make amends.”

“What are you talking about? This is the Savior's... I mean, Rika's fault, isn't it?”

“Not entirely... I blame myself for allowing Saeran to fall into Rika's hands because I neglected my promise to Luciel to keep his brother safe. It's my fault he was brainwashed and brought into Mint Eye,” he explains. “I love Rika... I'd do anything for her, but she should have never involved Saeran in these distorted plans of hers. Saeran also blames me for Luciel abandoning him, so I could never convince Saeran to leave Mint Eye, but now that you're here he may finally have someone who can persuade him to escape. I believe if he loses faith in Rika he will listen to you and follow. The book details everything she's done to him, things like the brainwashing, the medicine of salvation... everything. It's a documented record from her own hand.”

You clasp the book tighter as if it's your only lifeline - no, Saeran's lifeline. Though you recall his silent visit with the Savior earlier, you weren't going to let it deter you. You're not giving up on him. “Thank you, V, thank you so much for this.”

He bows his head. “I've taken the liberty of writing Luciel's current address on the last page for you both. Saeran... he has a complicated relationship with his brother right now. I'm sure he still harbors a lot of hate and unresolved feelings, but I hope he will consider everything written in that book and come to realize Luciel did what he thought was best at the time. I know it would make Luciel happy to see his brother again after all these years.”

“Why did his brother leave, anyway? Why would Saeran blame you for that?” you ask. There's no question how Saeran feels about Luciel. You had marks on your neck for over a week to prove it.

“He left because I convinced him to take on a job at an intellectual hacking agency in order to better his life and in the end, Saeran's as well. You at the very least must know Luciel accepted my advice with the best intentions, and this result is due to my failure to keep his brother safe...” He stands then, preparing to leave. “Please do not mention to Saeran that I was the one who provided the book.”

You nod, understanding that if you do, Saeran's distrust in V may lead him to believe this is merely a ruse. “I won't.”

“Thank you. I must go now, but I hope this is enough to to convince him. Good luck to the both of you.”

“Me too. Thank you, V.” You watch him travel up the steps and disappear through the doorway, wondering if this will be the last time you'll ever see him.


	16. Almost Gone

*** 16 ***

 

Discreetly securing a journal to your body proved to be somewhat of a challenge. There weren't many options available when you're only wearing a plain pair of fitted jeans and a T-shirt, but you managed to find a satisfactory location: underneath your left arm, pinned between your bra strap and body. The strap holds it securely in place and the T-shirt is large enough to hide it's bookish shape, though you still need to be careful regarding how you move. So far, no disciples have noticed.

An estimated three days have already gone by – you received a small white pill three times since your incarceration – and although you have the book in your possession, you've been too paranoid to read more than a few lines at a time, always stuffing it back into your shirt at the slightest creak, tap, or knock. It's too valuable to lose and you didn't want Saeran's lifeline destroyed because you couldn't control your curiosity.

Although he hasn't visited you since the first night, your resolve does not waver though you admit his absence hurts. You wonder if the Savior or the disciples are keeping him from seeing you, or if its his own decision to stay away. Even so, presenting the book here seems dangerous. It could incite an argument, which could then summon any number of disciples to the scene and realize the cause of such a ruckus. No, you have to give him the book in private. So you wait.

On the fourth day, your daily dose is delivered by the Savior herself. She smiles serenely at you from between the bars, her golden curls framing her beautiful angelic face. “Please, take this,” she says. In her hands is a small bottle of mint colored capsules and a glass of water.

You meet her at the bars, staring her down. “What are these?”

“Oh, I told you before. Don't you remember?” She laughs. “This will be your new medicine now. I like to refer to it as our 'medicine of salvation.' I'll be giving you one today, and then we'll see how you are come morning.” The Savior shakes the bottle playfully. “I'll also be releasing you back to the comfort of your room, but not until you take this.”

The knot in your stomach is wound tight, but you try your best to appear strong as she shakes out a green capsule. The Savior offers it to you. This is it. You wonder how much time you have before your mind is wiped clean and reprogrammed.

Your trembling hands break your facade. They take the pill, pop it in your mouth, and you swallow. You're conditioned to open your mouth and lift your tongue to prove it is gone.

The Savior beams. Pulling a skeleton key from her pocket, she unlocks the door to the cell and says, “You may go.”

 

* * *

 

You're running through hallways like a mouse caught in a maze. Doors blur by. You turn down one corridor and find a dead end, so you double back only to take another route, bringing you to another dead end. Again and again, it's as though you're going in circles. You just need to find Saeran's room!

The book is slipping from underneath your arm, so you adjust it accordingly.

_This has to be delivered to Saeran_ , you tell yourself over and over. _He needs this book. It's important. It must reach him._

You pass by a carpeted staircase and slowly wind back, gazing up towards the top. You climb the steps to come upon a short hallway with three rooms. Doors all closed. The sight causes a wave of warm nostalgia to course through you, and you know you're in the right place. You knock on the left door, then try the one across the hall. No answer. You rush towards the door furthest from the steps.

“Saeran!” you call. You can hear someone inside. “Saeran, please let me in.”

No answer.

“Saeran! This is important. Please, please, please open the door!” you plead. The fog is rolling in now. You try to push back but no physical strength or skill can stop it from engulfing you entirely. “I have it. I have it here.”

You kneel down to the floor and remove the book from under your shirt. You briefly wonder how a book got there to begin with, but you shake your head violently, trying to focus. Not yet! Please not yet! The book is thin enough to slide under the door, so you give it a hard shove between the slot and hope the truth reaches him.

 

* * *

 

Saeran hears her calling frantically from the other side of the door. For a moment, perhaps out of former routine, he prepares to answer but stops himself. No, he can't let her in. The Savior told him this would happen, that once she's released she would come running back to him as a victim crying for some sympathy. It's a trick, the Savior explained, a trick meant to distract and blind him from what she's really doing – using him to plot her own escape. She's already stolen his key card, making her capable of other duplicitous things.

She continues to plead, her words sounding desperate. He begins fidgeting with his leather cuff and pressing his fingertips against the spikes as if using the pain to distract from the tightness growing in his chest.

It doesn't feel right keeping her out.

Saeran glances down at the coffee table where the lone crane rests. When he woke that morning to find her missing from his bed, a deep, unsettling sadness crept inside him as he first believed she escaped Mint Eye, leaving him behind. It's when he got up to look for her that he found the crane with the message: _The truth will set us free_. Perplexed, it inspired him to search the mansion but it wasn't long before a disciple informed him of what had happened: she'd stolen his key card and assaulted another disciple. Saeran thought he was dreaming until the Savior requested he come to the basement. Then he saw her there in the cell on the stone floor in a daze. He couldn't comprehend what had happened. Why would she do something like this? The Savior returned his card and upon leading him out of the basement, explained she merely used him. At the time Saeran believed her, but the longer he considered the explanation, the more his gut told him it was a lie...

Her pleading stops and Saeran hears shuffling outside the door. What is she doing?

Suddenly, a black book skids across the bedroom floor and into a pile of paper cranes.

“What the hell,” he says under his breath while walking over to retrieve it.

He picks up the leather journal and turns it over in his hands. Something about the book seems familiar, like it's an artifact from a long lost dream. On the cover is a piece of tape with his name, written by the Savior. He recognizes her swirling, elegant handwriting. Saeran fans through the pages first, catching a whiff of pulp and ink, and notices the entire book is handwritten by the Savior too.

Before reading the first page, he decides to let her in for an explanation.

Saeran opens the door and immediately drops the journal, rushing to her motionless body sprawled out on the hallway floor.

“No, no, no!” He pulls her up against him. “Wake up!”

She stirs a moment, but doesn't open her eyes. At least she's alive!

Saeran panics. Sliding his arms under her back and legs, he picks her up and carries her to his bed, careful not to bump into the door frame while crossing the threshold. He places her on the blankets and watches expectantly, but she remains still.

Saeran goes back to retrieve the journal, shuts the door, and returns to the bedside. She stirs again, this time opening her eyes. When her sight fixates on Saeran, she shrieks and pulls away, creating distance between them both. “What is going on?” she cries.

Saeran is taken aback. “I was going to ask you the same thing. What's wrong?”

She's watching him closely, suspiciously. The look in her eyes is unnerving and it reminds him when they fought in the apartment complex those months ago. He never wanted to see that look from her again. “Who...” and she pauses, as if something distracts her.

The start of her question is like a knife jabbed into Saeran's stomach.

“Who are you...?” she asks.

The knife twists. “This isn't funny. You need to stop.”

But she isn't laughing, and a part of him really wishes she was. She's still regarding him warily. “What are you talking about? I'm not joking,” she says.

The pain is sharp enough to cause Saeran to gasp. “Stop...” he pleads. “Please don't be like this.”

 

* * *

 

He's standing from across the bed looking like some wounded animal, his eyes full of fear and his mouth drawn open for breath. There's something familiar there, about his mouth, the shape of his lips and the curve of his jaw. His eyes are the color of spearmint and underlined with a smudge of black liner. His feathery white-blond pink-tipped hair appears soft to the touch. Somewhere inside, you know it is. The sensation of running your fingers through his hair is something well-known to you, but in the collective of your mind the memory turns up missing. Missing file. Filing cabinet. Second file from the top drawer.

Your head begins to throb.

“I don't understand. Be like what? Tell me what's going on!” you demand. You crawl towards the edge of the bed and climb off to face him.

He flinches as if your words cut across his skin.

He grabs your shoulders, “Just stop, alright! Stop talking!” and then embraces you tightly. You breathe in the spicy scent of clove and cigarettes, and suddenly everything rushes back with sharp clarity. Your heart leaps at the excitement of being in his arms but tears sting your eyes as the realization of actually losing yourself settles in.

“Saeran! Oh my god!” you cry. You cling to him tighter, your hand in his hair and you face pressing into the crook of his neck.

“Don't ever do that to me again,” he tells you. You can feel him shaking.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...” you say, sobbing into his shoulder. “I couldn't remember. I couldn't remember anything.”

He releases you, his hands back on your shoulders. Those eyes, still full of fear and uncertainty are analyzing you now as if to be completely certain of the truth. “That... you weren't joking just now, were you?” The question is more like a statement.

“No, I wasn't. I'd never do that to you, Saeran!” you tell him while wiping tears away. The thought of forgetting absolutely everything has you horrified, and prompts you to kiss him hard, again and again as if he's oxygen and you're suffocating.

He relaxes, falling into your kisses and holding you tight again. “I really thought I lost you for a second... Tell me what's going on. What happened? And what is this book?”

Though the fog still drifts through your mind you explain everything you can remember, telling Saeran about the 'medicine of salvation', the Savior wanting to brainwash you, her request to keep feeding you those white pills in order to wipe your memory, the reason you stole his key card and why you broke into a disciple's room in the middle of the night. You leave out your meeting with V entirely.

“I was looking for this book,” you finish, holding up the black journal. “When I was being prepped for the initiation ceremony, that woman was documenting my entire process so the Savior could review it before my evaluation. I guessed they might have kept records of everyone here and thought... there was a book about you, too.”

Saeran takes the book from your hands and examines his name on the cover. “This doesn't make any sense. I followed the Savior willingly after she got me out of my house.”

“I know you may believe that, Saeran, but you didn't. She spent months making sure you'd forget, and then re-coded you...” you explain. “The Savior isn't the person you believe she is.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I definitely attempted to hide a small Moleskine journal on myself. Didn't run around with it under my arm though ~


	17. One Thing Left

*** 17 ***

 

**Day 5:**

_I introduced the 'medicine of salvation' to Saeran today. He's been very resilient thus far, refusing to believe his brother Luciel abandoned him completely. He clings to the shred of hope that one day he'll return for him. It's becoming a problem with his progress. It may be best to clear the slate and start again. He cannot harbor any hope that isn't directly focused on the eternal Paradise we will build together._

 

**Day 12:**

_The pills are already working. Though he slips in and out of consciousness during our meetings, I am a patient person. He usually returns after about five minutes of going under, sometimes his memories coming back in full. I wonder if the strength of the dosage is too weak, or if he is fighting against it. Hope for his brother is a dangerous thing. It continues to cause a hitch in my plan._

 

**Day 22:**

_Saeran is finally starting to understand and see the light. I remind him again that V is the one who told Luciel to lie, to make those false promises in order to keep him complacent in order to run away for a better life on his own. Otherwise, Luciel couldn't escape with the dead weight of his own brother holding him back. Though he left with good intentions, I cannot dare let Saeran hope that one day he will return. It's best if he believes he was abandoned. Scorching everything inside him can only provide the nutritious soil upon which his obedience and devotion can grow._

 

**Day 39:**

_I began weaning Saeran off of the 'medicine of salvation', but unfortunately his memories don't remain buried for long. Taking him off was a mistake. It only served to confuse and cloud his mind. He had too many questions. I'll try again another time._

 

**Day 63:**

_His hacking skills are coming along, but they're not up to par yet. He needs a lot more time before I can use him to gather information from the R.F.A. I need those guest lists if I ever want Mint Eye to be the best it can be. Unfortunately Saeran is taking a long time to mold. However, he's responding well to the pills now that he's on a regular dosing schedule. He's already beginning to omit them, believing it's his first time receiving the medicine each and every time. It's progress, at least. I hope all the hard work I put into him pays off someday. I need those lists!_

 

* * *

 

The entries continue on like that for a while, the days seeming to never end. Pages are filled with multiple entries, front and back, and written in a flourish of violet ink. Her handwriting is beautiful, though the story it documents is anything but. As Saeran reads you hold your breath, expecting him to explode, to yell, to claim you're a liar, but he does none of these things.

The silence is more troubling.

He presses his hand against his forehead, his other holding the book. His leg has been tapping impatiently for the past five minutes.

“Are you tricking me?” he asks. It's a weak accusation and holds very little of his own belief.

“No, I'm not,” you reassure. As if to make it even clearer, you grab the crane from the coffee table and hold the wing against a page in the book to compare the handwriting. Yours is scratchy when displayed next to the twining, elegant lines from the Savior's hand. “See? I don't think I could write like that if I even tried.”

He compares the two for a few moments. “I... I know. They're completely different.”

You put the crane back on the table and wait.

It's quiet again for the next few minutes or so until Saeran unexpectedly slings the book with all his might against the wall of his bedroom. _SMACK!_ It claps off the wall and drops to the floor. The sound makes you jump. Saeran gets off the bed and begins pacing around the room, his hand still against his forehead and tangling in his hair. He reminds you of an agitated lion in a cage. You're unsure of what to say and part of you is nervous to speak up at all.

He walks about the room not caring about the litter of cranes on the floor. Some are smashed under his heavy boots. Saeran turns back to say, “Is it all true? Is this real? Is everything inside my head a lie or some kind of fucking fabrication?”

You stand from the bed. “What's in that book is true. You didn't come to Mint Eye willingly. She made you believe you did. All the things they tried to do to me were done to you too, but worse...”

He starts pacing again. It's dizzying to watch. “The thing with your mind. The memories. You forgetting me. Is that what the medicine of salvation does? Is that what she gave you this morning?”

“That's what she told me, yes,” you answer.

He grabs his head again, but this time it looks as if it's out of pain. He winces. “I knew the book looked familiar. I remember seeing it before. That's why I could recognize it as the Savior's handwriting. I watched her write my name on that cover. It was also with her during our meetings. Our fucking meetings...” he trails off.

 

* * *

 

Every memory unearthed breaks the chains around the Savior's vault of trust inside Saeran. The dull ache of his head grows stronger the more his memories branch into other recollections, reminding him of things he hasn't thought about in years. They feel like dreams and nightmares parading through his mind, each one fading into the other, all out of order. He remembers a blue sky with wispy clouds, the taste of ice cream and the warmth of sunlight on his back. He feels weak, his legs stiff and sore. He's with Luciel – Saeyoung – his brother. In another, he is sitting in a room with the Savior, her calm voice carefully explaining his abandonment, placing blame on V. She spits the name from her mouth as if it's poison. The memory fades into another time, another room, but with the Savior once more, that black book in her hands and the pen scratching against the page as she writes. Saeran asks where he is, a question she refuses to answer. Instead, she begins writing. After, she pulls a small vial from her pocket and tells him to take one of the pills. He refuses, and she smacks him across the face.

He grabs his head as if to slow down the continuous onslaught of memories but it's no good. He winces. When the last chain to the Savior's vault of trust is broken, it opens to reveal only a small bottle of mint colored pills. His loyalty is only a meticulous fabrication composed of lies and chemicals.

Saeran's mind is now a mix of truths and falsehoods, all racing by so fast that it turns to white noise. He stops pacing and turns. While the world he once believed in falls away and turns to static, she's the only person left standing there and waiting for him.

“Is what we have real?”

He needs to know. There has to be one thing left for him to count on.

 

* * *

 

The question slips after he's done pacing.

Though it surprises you, it's something you don't need time to consider – you already know the answer.

You walk over and take his hands. “Yes,” you tell him. Over the recent months you've grown afraid of the disciples, of Mint Eye, of the Savior, and the alarming possibility of losing everything you've known, but the feelings you developed for Saeran keeps you tethered to reality. “What we have between us is real. It isn't some fabrication made from pills and lies. I care about you, Saeran, I really do. I -”

He kisses you then, stealing the words from your mouth. “I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

 


	18. The Escape

*** 18 ***

 

He wants to leave tonight.

Saeran begins putting together a plan from his bedroom using one of his laptops. You've watched him work for weeks inside his office, but never have you seen his fingers move across the keyboard with such purpose and intensity.

You sit quietly to allow him time to focus, halfheartedly folding more paper cranes. Keeping your hands busy kept the knot in your stomach from growing in size and complexity. Though you have faith in Saeran's skills, you still can't help but worry after experiencing the effects of the medicine of salvation. You wonder what would happen to the both of you if caught. What if the Savior kills you on the spot? What if she throws you in the basement and slowly starves you to death instead? What if she feeds you a handful of pills and you're left an empty husk of a human shell? She could even do these things to Saeran, forcing you to watch, and still manage to torture you.

_No, don't be like that_ , you think. You have to believe both of you will succeed. You will. You both will.

You fold the wings down of a newly formed crane and toss it onto the pile. Your gaze lingers there trying to count them all. Though neither of you managed to make 1,000, you desperately hope your wish will still come true.

 

* * *

 

“Do you have everything?” he asks.

You stand next to him, tense and waiting. “Yes.”

Your hair is tied back and you're wearing a fitted T-shirt, skinny jeans, and a pair of running shoes. The only item of importance you've tucked away in Saeran's bag is the journal with Luciel's address, provided to you through V. Once on the road you plan on instructing Saeran to drive there. It's the only viable destination.

Saeran is waiting by the door with the laptop in hand and a black backpack slung over his shoulder. “Once I hit this, we only have ten minutes before the security system goes back up,” he reminds you.

You nod, feeling like a stretched rubber band ready to spring out the door.

“Three... two... one,” and he hits the button on his laptop. In a swift motion, he closes the computer, stuffs it in his backpack and swings it over his shoulders to secure it in place over his leather jacket.

During that time, the lights in his room flicker off and are replaced with dim generator lights. Then you hear the audible click of the lock to his room and that's your cue to move. Saeran swings the door back and grabs your hand, leading you down the short hallway to the steps. Everything is dark except for the eerie amber glow of the spotlights.

Though your nerves are humming and blood is beating between your ears, the rest of Mint Eye is quiet. Saeran leads you through the winding dark corridors towards the garage – all doors opening with ease without a key card. Though its the middle of the night, you become suspicious of the simplicity of your escape.

Saeran reaches the garage's entrance and cautiously opens the door, checking first to see if anyone is already there. You peer over his shoulder. It's a large room housing four sleek cars, each gleaming under the soft amber glow. Everything is silent and still. You can smell the faint fumes of gasoline and oil.

Presuming it is safe, he leads you inside and as planned, he busies himself with the wall lock box holding the car keys while you manually unlock and pull up the garage door. Though you try to be discreet, the metal plates, springs, and wheels let loose a metallic screech, which continues until the door is wide open. In this moment, it's enough to give you a heart attack.

Beyond the garage door you catch the humid scent of the forest beyond and hear the sound of crickets. Freedom is close.

“You're leaving so soon? How predictable.”

Your breath catches and you turn to see the Savior and four disciples filing into the garage. Done with the lock box, Saeran is backing away with the keys, his focus on the unexpected guests.

The disciples flank the Savior like guards. “Saeran, you've really disappointed me,” she says. The overhead spotlight casts a reddish tint across her forehead, nose and cheeks while simultaneously causing shadows to pool around her eyes, giving her a skeletal appearance. “This girl is still using you. Don't you see?”

You carefully make your way to him, your eyes never leaving the Savior.

“You're lying to me,” he tells her. “That's all you've ever done, isn't it? Shoving drugs down my throat so I'd believe anything you say.”

She smiles calmly. “What sort of things has she been telling you? Don't you remember who took you from that house after your very own brother abandoned you there because you were too weak, too sick to be of any use? Don't you remember who saved you? Without me, you would have been killed by the hand of your own mother.”

Saeran's breathing heavy. You grab his hand to try and ground him.

“I know everything you did to me,” he continues, his voice stronger. “We have the book.”

Her smile vanishes. “I see.”

The Savior moves among the leering disciples, red light and shadows cascading along her clothes to create a hellish cloak. She reaches into her robes. What she pulls out is indistinguishable until you catch the metal gleaming in the light. Your grip tightens on Saeran.

“I really didn't want to do this,” she goes on, gesturing with the pistol, “but you're not really leaving me much of a choice. I knew that girl was trouble from the start. Do you really think she cares about you, Saeran? She just wants to escape! She's _using_ you to leave and will abandon you out there in that filthy world the first chance she gets.” The Savior laughs. “You're falling for it all over again. Sweet words and promises, the same kind your brother told you. When will you ever learn?”

“She's lying,” you whisper.

“Saeran,” she calls sweetly, lowering the gun. “Saeran, if you come back to me, all will be forgiven. It will be like none of this ever happened. You'll still have your invitation to Paradise and you'll be safe within the walls of Mint Eye. I will protect you.”

“She doesn't mean it,” you tell him again while squeezing his hand.

“Quiet!” the Savior shouts. She aims the gun towards you. “Her words are venom and you're poisoned, Saeran. I am the only one who truly cares about you. Can't you see that?”

“I will never return to you after everything you did to me,” he tells her.

The Savior frowns. “If that's your choice, then so be it.”

Everything happens in seconds. As the Savior readies her aim, you and Saeran dodge out of the way, then you hear a scuffle, the gun fires, the Savior screams and Saeran cries out. You both fall against one of the cars and quickly crawl on the other side for cover. You press your back against one of the tires and frantically look towards Saeran.

“Take the keys. Get in the car,” he orders while holding his arm. Blood is already staining his hand.

“R-Right.” You grab the keys, unlock the doors, and glance behind while Saeran rushes to the passenger seat. Three disciples are trying to subdue another, larger devote and the Savior looks absolutely furious.

She rips the veil from the disciple's face. “V!” she shrieks. “You sneaking traitor!”

Taking advantage of the distraction, you quickly climb into the driver's seat, jam the key in the ignition and turn. The engine roars to life. In a jittery motion, you shift into drive and slam on the gas. The tires squeak and you hear a bullet hit the car door. Out of sudden reflex, you duck to the right and the car almost clips the garage. Another bullet hits the back bumper.

In the first few seconds outside of Mint Eye you're driving blind. You flip on the headlights and yell, “Fuck!” before nearly hitting a tree. You spin the wheel, hearing gravel and dirt roll underneath the tires and stones pinging against the metal undercarriage. The tree makes contact with the car's driver side back panel, just enough to shake you both. As you find the road leading through the forest, you hear one more gunshot echo into the night.

You're nothing but nerves and adrenaline in the driver's seat, your hands sweating on the wheel. “Saeran?” you call, glancing over to him. “Saeran, how bad is it?”

He hits the interior light, his fingertips leaving behind a smudge of blood.

While speeding down the road, you glance over at his arm. His jacket and skin is ripped, blood overflowing the wound. He sucks in a breath while inspecting it. “The bullet just grazed me,” he tells you.

“Keep pressure on it until I can pull over and wrap it for you.” Your eyes keep darting at the rear view mirror expecting to see headlights in the distance. “I don't know if they're going to follow us.”

You drive for almost an hour before you're confident enough to pull into an empty lot. The lot is really just a patch of dirt on the side of the road, but it is unoccupied and you haven't seen headlights in the past twenty miles.

You park but leave the car running.

“Hey, are you doing okay?” You've been talking to Saeran the entire drive making sure he remained conscious. Navigating unknown mountainous back roads consumed most of your focus, making it difficult to keep glancing over and checking on him visually.

“I'm fine,” he tells you, but his voice is strained.

“Let me at least wrap it for you until we can get some place safe. There's some clothes in your bag, right?”

Saeran nods.

His backpack is on the passenger side floor between his shins so you lean over, unzip the top, and dig around for a moment before pulling out one of his shirts. Folding the tank top in half vertically, you wrap it over the wound as tight as you can. Saeran winces until its secure.

“There. It's not great but it will do for now,” you say. “You might need stitches though.”

His head falls back against the headrest. “So, where do we go now?”

You're give pause, your mind trying to wade through the fog for something familiar. Then you're diving back into Saeran's bag for the book.

He watches you curiously as you fan through the pages, rip out the last, and hand it to him. “Does your laptop have GPS? Can you input this address and direct me?”

“It does, and I can. What is this place?” Saeran examines the blue lettering.

You pull out his computer and place it lightly on his lap, minding his wounded arm.

“Our only option.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man... I received quite a few hopeful comments about making sure the Savior gets what she deserves after everything she's done to Saeran & MC, but they were after I finished this chapter. I really don't want to go back and edit anything... I hope it's still satisfying at least! ; v ;'' 
> 
> I also tried to mirror some things in 707's route / the Secret Ending throughout the story, though I think they're most apparent in this chapter. I just wanted to make note that they were done on purpose ~ 
> 
> Thanks again for the kind comments! ♡ Merry Christmas!


	19. Luciel

*** 19 ***

 

You've been driving all morning. Dawn broke only a few hours before, igniting the sky with vibrant, fiery hues and outlining the clouds in molten gold. Though you were able to witness sunsets from Saeran's bedroom window for a few weeks it's been months since you've seen the dawn light. Once the world lit up around you it finally settled in that you and Saeran got out. You were free from the pills, the disciples, from the Savior – from Mint Eye itself.

“Take this left,” Saeran instructs, his voice noticeably weaker.

You listen, taking a left turn down a narrow road.

Saeran directed you to a city you've never heard of, or perhaps you had and it's just another missing file from your collective memory. The latter seems more likely. Regardless, you already know it to be the city where Luciel lives though Saeran has yet to realize. You omitted this detail, concerned Saeran would refuse to navigate the two of you here if he knew. Without connections to reality anymore due to your faulty memory, Luciel's place is the only viable option left and besides, if what V said is true, that Luciel left Saeran with the intentions of providing them both a better life, then shouldn't his brother welcome him back with open arms?

“It should be this house here,” Saeran says then, closing his laptop. He looks exhausted and paler than usual. You notice the blood already soaked through the impromptu bandage.

 _Just hang in there a little longer_.

You park the car and kill the engine. “You should stay here for a moment. I won't be gone too long. Promise,” you say.

“You still never told me what this place is,” he says. There are notes of suspicion in his voice, but they're subdued by his fatigue. You're grateful he's trusted you this far and hope you're not making a huge mistake by bringing him to his brother.

“Ah, right - well it's a friend. They should help us.” You lean over and give him a kiss on the lips. “Don't worry,” you say before pulling away.

You try to heed your own advice.

You step shakily from the car into broad daylight, standing outside on an empty street underneath warm sunlight as trees rustle in the breeze and birds chirp from branch to branch. You hear cars rushing by in the distance, a faraway honk, some tires squealing. It's nostalgic and foreign at the same time.

You hop up onto the sidewalk across the road and come upon a gated barrier complete with a key pad and intercom system. And is that... a security camera?

 

* * *

 

“I'm not your damn maid, Seven,” the man says while angrily snatching up empty bags of Honey Buddha chips and clearing away cans of soda, dumping them in the trash. He pauses a moment to compose himself, brushing back his long, ashen brown hair. “For as much time as you waste during work hours, you can at least use some of it to pick up after yourself.”

Seven spins a full circle in his computer chair with a big grin, his striped glasses catching the light. “But you're so good at cleaning, Vanderwood. If you ever get out of the business, being a maid would suit you! I have an outfit you can borrow!” Suddenly an empty soda can is being hurled towards his face. Seven tries to duck but it catches him in the side of the head leaving a sticky kiss. “Ugh, come on. That one still had soda in it!”

“Good. Just get your work done,” Vanderwood tells him, sounding exasperated.

While Seven is wiping the old soda from his red hair and neck, Vanderwood begins clearing off his computer desk, scooping loose chip crumbs into the garbage bag. He stands and begins knotting it when something on the CCTV catches his attention. “Hey, who's that standing there by the gate?”

“Hmm?” Seven adjusts his glasses and looks up at the screen. “Oh, helloooo.” They see a young, confused woman loitering in front of the gate, her hair tied back but disheveled, and dressed in a plain T-shirt, jeans and running shoes. Though the feed is monochromatic, Seven notices a dark colored stain on her wrists, arm and some of her shirt. It... that wasn't blood, was it?

“Do you know her?”

“She doesn't look familiar, no.” The stains concern him. Maybe she's in trouble? She paces for a moment until deciding to try the intercom system. Her voice fills the room.

“H-Hello? Is there a Luciel here? Am I using this thing right?” The last question was meant for herself, though she forgot to let go of the speaker button.

Seven found the off-comment cute, but how does she know him?

“Do you think someone from the other agency sent her to gain access?” Vanderwood asks. He's still holding the bag of garbage and watching the girl on the screen.

Seven leans back in his chair, perplexed. “I really don't know.” He catches her lips moving so he turns on the outdoor speaker feed to hear what she's saying.

“What kind of place is this? I don't know Arabic! What the hell!” She's getting aggravated and Vanderwood chuckles.

“See, I'm not the only one who thinks your security clearances are ridiculous,” he chides.

She glances back towards something across the street, then tries the intercom again with more urgency. “Luciel, if you're in there, please let us in! I know you don't know me, but I'm with your brother, Saeran, and he's injured! He needs help!”

Seven immediately sits up in his chair. She knows Saeran? But how? Who is this girl?

Vanderwood sighs and moves to take out the trash. “She's clearly making things up now. You don't have a brother... H-Hey what are you doing?”

Seven shoves him aside to reach the intercom. “This is Luciel. Where is Saeran?”

She looks to be startled by the voice, but returns to the mic quickly. “Oh! Oh my god, you're actually there! Saeran is in the car. It's a long story but his arm is hurt. Can we please come in?”

“Seven, you shouldn't do anything so hasty. We don't even know this woma– Where are you going?” Vanderwood shouts. “Dammit, at least take your gun!”

 

* * *

After your question, you hear the gate lock click back. You try it and the metal bars squeaks open. Thank goodness!

You rush across the street to the car to get Saeran, excitement and hope humming through you in waves and making you a jittery mess. You open the passenger side door. “Saeran! Come on, let's go in. We're safe-”

How quickly your hope fades when you realize Saeran isn't moving.

You rush to check if he's breathing and feel his soft, warm exhales against your skin, his chest still rising and falling underneath his jacket and shirt.

“Where is he?” a voice calls from across the road. You look up to see a young man in a black and yellow jacket running towards you, his hair a mess of red curls and his glasses glinting in the morning sunlight. It must be Luciel! Aside from coloration differences, he could be Saeran's doppelganger.

“He's over here!” you call. “He's not moving but he's breathing. I think he passed out from the blood loss. We've been driving for hours.”

Luciel pulls you aside to see Saeran. You watch as his hands gingerly brush against his face checking for any other bruising and feeling for his breath to know for sure you're telling the truth. You wait, chewing on your lip, when you hear a second pair of footsteps running towards the car. Another man in a violet V-neck and leather jacket crosses the street and meets next to Luciel. “Was she being serious, Seven? I didn't realize you had a brother.”

Seven? Did Luciel have another name?

“Vanderwood, help me carry him to the house,” he says. Luciel is already unbuckling him from the car and pulling Saeran out onto the sidewalk.

“Whoa, hey okay, give me a sec,” and he rushes to the other side of Saeran, carefully avoiding his injured arm.

You snatch the backpack from the floor and shut the car door. For a moment you think they're going to take him and just leave you behind on the street when Luciel calls over, “Hey! I didn't get your name but can you get the gate and the doors for us?”

You jump to attention and race over, opening the gate wide enough to let the three men through.

 

* * *

 

Vanderwood works on stitching up Saeran's arm from Luciel's bed. You can't bring yourself to watch and instead look about the room to distract yourself from the scene. Luciel's home is much larger than you anticipated, and modern. By the look of it, his goal to make a better life for himself really did come to fruition... You hoped his new life would accept his brother too, as originally promised all those years ago.

“Hey, come on, let's get the blood off you.” Luciel is standing in the doorway and motions for you to follow.

He leads you into the kitchen towards a stainless steel sink and busies himself with wetting a washcloth with warm water. “Are you hurt at all?”

“Oh... No,” you say, glancing down at the blood on your arms. “It's Saeran's.”

Luciel gently grabs your hand and starts wiping away the stains.

“Thank you for bringing him here,” he says. “I have a lot of questions but right now I'm more concerned about getting the both of you patched up and comfortable.”

“He'll be okay, right?” you ask. “I mean, should he really be stitched... here?”

Luciel gives a weak smile. “Don't worry. Vanderwood is trained for situations like these. He knows what he's doing.”

Situations like these... situations that involve gunshot wounds? Luciel isn't the only one with questions.

He finishes wiping away the blood and washes the cloth clean in the sink.

You and Luciel return to the bedroom right as Vanderwood finishes off his last stitch. “He's lucky it only nicked him. That's all I gotta say.”

“Will he come around soon?” you ask.

“Depends. How long did you say you two were driving for?”

“Maybe about five... six hours? There was a moment where we got a little lost,” you explain while climbing across the bed on your knees to take hold of Saeran's hand. His breathing is even and deep, making him appear as if he's just sleeping.

Luciel sits across from you, a motion which prompts Vanderwood to make his way towards the door, sensing this to be a private moment. “Seven, I'll be out here if you need me.”

The door clicks shut.

“How did you get my address?” Luciel asks. He pulls his gaze from his brother to you.

You try to stifle a yawn. With Saeran now stitched and resting, the weariness of your escape is catching up to you. Your thoughts are also still shuffling through the ever present fog. “It was given to me by someone named V,” you tell him.

Luciel stiffens, seeming to recognize the name. “V?”

“It's a long story...” you begin, and try to explain everything the best you can. It's like attempting to narrate a constantly changing dream. Sometimes you double back to explain something in more depth or you mix up the order of events. Regardless, Luciel is patient with you while you manage to get through the story.

You first tell him about being abducted by Saeran, the pills, the beatings, the initiation, about the Savior and the disciples. You conveniently leave out sleeping with his brother, but mention his work space, about how Saeran is a hacker though you still don't know what kind of work he did while at Mint Eye. Then you talk about the medicine of salvation, how you were caught trying to find the journal meant to convince Saeran to leave – he was brainwashed, you tell Luciel – and how you still can't remember much about your past. It comes and goes, your mind feeling like a library of memories with multitudes of missing files and broken links.

By the end, you're explaining to Luciel how you and Saeran have no where else to go but you needed to escape, to be anywhere else but Mint Eye. Tears sting your eyes and you bite your tongue to keep them back.

You're out.

You're free.

But are you safe?

Luciel touches your arm as a way of summoning you back to reality. “Hey, hey, calm down,” he says gently. He tries to offer a smile. “If you have nowhere else to go, please stay here with me and Saeran. Maybe after some time your memories will come back, right?”

You nod, taken by his optimism. “Are you sure...? You don't even know me.”

He looks back down at his brother. “Yeah, of course I am. If it wasn't for all your help, I wouldn't have my brother back. Besides, it seems like you two have grown close,” he adds while gesturing to you holding Saeran's hand.

A rush of relief settles over you and suddenly you're reaching across the bed pulling Luciel into a hug. He's caught off guard as he awkwardly stumbles forward into your embrace, but hugs back and pats your shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say.

There's movement between you both as Saeran is finally coming to. You release Luciel and drop your focus to him, grabbing his hand again. “Hey,” you call softly. “You're awake!”

Saeran opens his eyes. When he sees you, a smile etches across his lips. “There you are... Where are we?”

“Saeran...” Luciel says, leaning towards his brother. “Saeran, it's me.”

You let out a clipped scream when Saeran punches him in the face. Luciel's glasses nearly come off. “You brought us to _him_?” he yells.

“Saeran calm down – ah! Be careful of your stitches!” you shout while trying to control him. “It's okay. Luciel will help us. He isn't a bad person, remember? All that stuff the Savior told you about him was a lie! Please remember the journal,” you plead.

Luciel fixes his glasses while rubbing his jaw. “I definitely deserved that...”

“He still left! That part wasn't a lie!” Saeran tells you frantically. His eyes are wild.

“Saeran, please let me make everything up to you. She told me everything she could remember about what happened. Both of you can stay with me,” he insists.

“No,” Saeran says while trying to get off the bed. “No, no, no.”

You grab his uninjured arm to keep him there. “Saeran... please. We don't have anywhere else to go! Remember that promise he made? What he's saying is he'll fulfill it now!” you try to persuade. Your grip softens on his arm and you reach for his hand, weaving your fingers between his. “Please?”

It takes a lot of convincing, mostly by you, but eventually Saeran calms down and agrees to at least stay until the two of you can think of another place to go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah! I love Seven so much, too ~ This was nice to write after everything that's happened.
> 
> Just a few additional notes: 
> 
> After writing this I came across in-game text that suggests Seven lives outside of the city and away from people, which makes much more sense considering his job. :x So my apologies for the inaccuracy here. 
> 
> Also, due to wanting to tie off the story, it is assumed MC does not mention the Savior by name in this chapter, as to keep the conversation and focus on Saeran and their dilemma.


	20. Their Frequency

*** 20 ***

 

Saeran didn't expect the two of them to stay long at Luciel's. He didn't want to, but the adamant point she made was right: Where else could they go? At first, Saeran hated the idea of sharing a living space with the person who abandoned him. Regardless of the lies Rika used to embellish the story, it didn't erase the actual fact that Luciel silently left him behind with their abusive drunk of a mother those years ago. Residual hate, whether resulting from the tangle of falsities from Mint Eye or his true emotional repercussions, still lingered.

But she and Luciel were patient.

After about a week, she coaxed Saeran to finally leave the spare room they shared by asking for his help to cook a meal. He found it difficult to refuse when what she wanted to make sounded so good. She also promised to keep Luciel from the kitchen, if it would help. It convinced him. Ten minutes into cooking though the aroma from the simmering pans beckoned Luciel to make an appearance, and he continually hovered about the kitchen trying to sneak a taste. No matter how many times Saeran smacked his hands with utensils and told him to go away, Luciel stayed. His smile was ever present, regardless if Saeran yelled at him to leave. Then she's there, quietly asking Saeran to calm down and politely suggesting Luciel to stay out of the way – they would be eating in a half hour and there would be enough for all three of them. She was their referee until Saeran became accustomed to living alongside his brother.

Over a month later they met Luciel's friends for the first time. In many ways, Saeran was already familiar with them; they were all members of the R.F.A., the group he originally tried to infiltrate half a year ago and he had files on each member back at Mint Eye. Meeting them in person though wasn't exactly what he expected.

They were friendly, some perhaps a little too friendly towards Saeran's girlfriend, but accepting all the same. She was more social, finding ways to connect with each member on a personal level with seemingly little effort. Outside of Mint Eye, her smiles came easier and she laughed often, things which helped Saeran do the same. He watched her enjoy coffee with Jaehee, admire photos of Elizabeth the 3rd with Jumin, attempt to play LOLOL with Yoosung and Luciel, and encourage Zen when he was feeling nervous about a new role. Saeran stayed silently by her side until he became comfortable enough to contribute to conversations. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to leave her for long when socializing.

He didn't care much for Zen who took every opportunity to flirt or drop pet names directed towards his girlfriend. Yoosung treated her much like an older sister, though Saeran caught his admiration through stolen glances. Jumin was typically business-like in her presence, a quality Saeran liked until he began offering to take her out to dinner or gift a bottle of wine to share for any number of occasions (a successful business deal or his cat's birthday, for instance.) Jaehee never posed a threat to Saeran, but it made him uncomfortable listening to her discuss Zen and his attractive physique with his girlfriend. Then there was Luciel, his brother.

His eccentric personality took some getting used to. His girlfriend understood his humor more easily than Saeran, and sometimes they'd be in stitches while he was left replaying the conversation trying to find the joke. He felt left out until she'd return to him for a hug, a kiss, or to cuddle on the couch. Overtime, Luciel began referring to her as his sister-in-law, a term which made Saeran a bit flustered until his girlfriend would laugh it off, aware it's just a joke meant to embarrass him.

“But a sweet one,” she later told Saeran in private.

The longer she and Saeran stayed, the less they discussed leaving. Days would pass before either of them brought it up, then weeks. He grew comfortable in Luciel's home, which was eased along by his brother's patience and her persistent, enduring kindness. It's something he appreciated, especially because he knew the other part of her that still struggled with what Rika did.

Since moving to Luciel's she's experienced nightmares of the veiled disciples or the pills, causing her to cry out in the middle of the night or sob quietly to herself. Anytime she was pained, Saeran was there and pulling her to him, running his fingers through her hair, wiping her face, and reminding her where they were now. All because of her. She got them out, and her strength would get her through this too. She'd try to smile through the tears and then kiss him to say thank you. Other nights, it was her who released him from his childhood nightmares, trying to ground him back in reality by embracing him, whispering about all the nice memories they have now and what they'll do tomorrow to make them even better.

She still makes paper cranes, explaining it's become a sort of hobby that calms her anxiety. Keeping her hands moving untangles the knot, she told him one afternoon when he walked into their room to find a pile of cranes on the floor. When Luciel discovered her hobby, he ordered her a stack of origami paper all printed in different colors and patterns. They were beautiful, appearing like embroidered fabric or shimmering with metallic accents. Saeran liked these much better than the plain white cranes from Mint Eye. She made so many that she strung them around their bedroom, left them on Luciel's desk as gifts, gave them away to their friends, or just let them sit around the house. He smiled every time he found a crane misplaced or hidden somewhere. Though he knew it was a coping mechanism, Saeran wondered if she also felt obligated to finish the original 1,000 cranes since her wish came true.

Many of her long term memories are still foggy or missing and none of them know when they'll return in full. Whenever she remembers something though - often summoned by a scent, a phrase, or a visual cue – both Saeran and Luciel ask her to tell them about it, down to every last detail. It's become a way of getting to know her more personally, to help strengthen her recollections, and pass the information to them in case the memory turns up missing once more. It makes her incredibly happy and he loves seeing her that way.

Saeran knows Luciel has grown fond of her too. He sees it in his affectionate gestures: sometimes grabbing her by the hand to lead her away, sitting closely when explaining something, or touching her shoulder for attention. Other times Luciel will use his humor to flirt, but she always misconstrues it as harmless banter. Saeran can also sense it, especially during the quiet moments when the three of them are together, resting while watching a movie perhaps or when they go outside for a walk. The thought of his brother harboring affections for his girlfriend was bothersome, though he understood it. After reuniting and growing accustomed to Luciel's presence, the better memories of their togetherness came to light and reminded him of the special connection they share. Still, it didn't make the fact any less uncomfortable and it took some time getting used to. If his girlfriend knew, she didn't let on. Her focus was always, in the end, on Saeran.

The three of them are on Luciel's black sofa sectional in his living room, Saeran laying against his girlfriend while she idly threads her fingers through his shower-damp hair, and his brother sprawled out on the other portion of the couch. They're watching some lame movie Luciel picked. Something about tornadoes and sharks. Saeran can't focus because of how stupid it is, but his brother and girlfriend seem to find it funny and that's good enough for him.

He turns towards her touch, resting his head against her chest and listening to her heart song instead. She glances down a moment, smiling, then returns to watching the movie.

Saeran closes his eyes.

The white noise inside his head is gone, and is instead replaced by the frequency of their laughs, words, sighs, hums, songs, and jokes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Ending Unlocked! 
> 
> Thank you so much everyone who stuck by to read my story! ; ; I hope you all enjoyed it ~ 
> 
> Though this is finished, I plan on creating a sort of After Ending Collective of these three featuring short stories, which specifically takes place after this fictional route. There is already a piece in progress though I do not wish to upload anything until at least one short is finished. If interested, feel free to subscribe! 
> 
> Hope everyone has a Happy New Year! ♡


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